


Sweet and Sour Wolf

by DistantShores



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Drunk Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Pineapples, Sunburn, Top Derek Hale, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantShores/pseuds/DistantShores
Summary: “Did you know...pineapple makes your come taste sweeter?"
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 14
Kudos: 244





	Sweet and Sour Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Do people even read Teen Wolf/Sterek fic anymore? AKA It took a global pandemic for me to write new fanfic for the first time in four years.
> 
> No one proofed this and I haven't written anything in a very long time so apologies for any oversights, errors, wrong lore, etc.  
> Feedback or corrections are appreciated.

Stiles fidgets uncomfortably in his cramped, economy airline seat, his knees pressed hard against the reclined seat in front of him trying to regain any semblance of feeling in his feet. He was just over an hour into the three hour flight but he wouldn’t wish this torture upon his worse enemy.

“Ugh…” he grumbles under his breath with no room to recline, buried in the back row aisle seat. He looks anxiously at the seats in his row past a man trying to read the newspaper, and Lydia. “Lyd!” he whispers across the middle passenger to the equally suffering redhead, tucked against the windowless window-seat. ”Lydia!” he repeats as he gently lowers the man’s newspaper.

She yanks her earphone out. “What, Stiles? I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“Oh…” he pauses, pondering. “What movie?”

She abruptly pauses her movie turning to look at Stiles. “Wonder Woman. Did you need something?” Lydia snaps.

“Uhh. How much longer? I’m bored. And uncomfortable.” 

If rolling eyes could make a sound, Stiles would have been deafened. “We’re almost halfway there. Just watch a movie or read the inflight magazine or _something_ that doesn’t disturb me. Or him,” she gestures to the middle-aged man between them still trying to read the newspaper. “Time will pass faster.” Lydia raises the gentleman’s paper back up between them and quickly shoves her headphones back in before Stiles has a chance to say anything further.

Stiles slouches further into his seat, well, to the best of his abilities. He peers into the aisleway looking for other signs of familiarity to interact with. A few rows ahead, Scott’s head crests at the top of the seat, Allison lying comfortably on his shoulder beside him. Two rows ahead of them, the broad shoulder of Derek peeks wide of the seat, forearm sitting uncomfortably on the armrest, struggling for limited real estate. From what Stiles can tell, Derek seems surprisingly jovial, as jovial as he can be, given he’s sitting beside Peter, as awful as he can be.

Stiles’ attention turns back to Scott as he makes his way down the aisle towards the back of the plane. He shuffles upright in his seat, eagerly making eye contact for interaction with his best friend. “Dude. This is _agony_.”

“What’s up?” Scott asks as he crouches beside Stiles’ seat.

“First of all, Pepsi products? Not Coke?” he scoffs. “And the pretzels they gave me were somehow blander than the so-called food they serve back at uni. And this seat sucks. I can’t nap without the window seat or something to lean on.”

“I liked the pretzels...” Scott dejectedly trails off. “We’ll be there before you know it,” he puts on a happier face.

“Yeah but we’ll also be there with _Peter_.”

Scott sighs. “I told you, he knows the owner of the resort, it’s a safe space where both weres and humans can stay, and he got us a solid package deal. It’s the whole reason we upgraded from a basic AirBnB to an actual all-inclusive resort. We wouldn’t have been able to afford it otherwise. We’re broke-ass college students, Stiles. You know this as well as I do.”

Scott was right. This trip started as a best friend forever spring break vacation together and it wasn’t until they started crunching the numbers that they realized they wouldn’t be living in the lap of luxury. Then, Allison caught wind and wanted to come along with her boyfriend. But not without lead trip planner Lydia, who insisted on her own room which wasn’t an option for everyone else’s budget. And then the Hales overheard them discussing finances, at which point Peter offered up his connections on the condition that he also joined. And then financially, Derek got roped into this mess as Stiles’ resort roommate.

“You’re right,” he reluctantly agrees. “But what is Peter getting out of this? And why do I have to room with _Derek_?”

“Peter’s got his own suite. We’ll probably never even see him while he’s doing his own thing. He’s just doing something nice for us for a change,” Scott shrugs with uncertainty. “As for Derek, he’s helping _you_ afford a room. Double occupancy rooms are cheaper than singles so this is win-win for everyone and we get a nice vacation together as a pack.”

“Just keep Peter away from me. You see the way he leers. Do I even need to mention the comments and innuendos he makes at my expense?”

“Yeah, because you play right back into them. You’re just as guilty for the shameless flirting. It goes both ways with you two.”

Stiles scrunches his nose in response, knowing full well Scott was right. “It was just supposed to be us on a bro-trip.”

“I know but it’s better than nothing at all. Don’t be such a downer. Cheer up, Stiles. It’ll be fun. ”

“Right now, anything is more fun than this awful seat.”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Yeah, you’re right. I could be stuck in the same row with Peter and Derek,” Stiles chuckles.

“A- _HEM_ ” a throat clears in the aisle from behind Scott, Derek suddenly looming over them, scowling at Stiles. “Is this _really_ how you want to start this trip?”

“I’m not wrong!” he protests. “Both you and Peter have a stupid shoulder-to-waist ratio. There’d be no room for me in that dorito pile of a middle seat.” Stiles puffs out his chest at Derek as Scott does his absolute worst to stifle his laughter. “I mean, I like doritos as much as any other college-aged guy but…”

“Okay, okay point taken. God, you’re absolutely insufferable sometimes, I swear. But come to think of it, I wouldn’t want to sit beside you either.”

“Hey now! You’re the one who chose to share a room with me.”

“And to think, you two have a whole week of this to look forward to together,” Scott laughs at their expense. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall in your room.”

“Are you going to move? Some people are waiting to use the bathroom,” Derek asks Scott, nudging him with his knee.

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you once we land Stiles!” as he hurries out of the way.

Derek huffs to himself as Scott squeezes past him. He stops briefly passing by Stiles’ seat. “You were right.”

“I was? About what?”

“The pretzels were terrible.”

~~~~~

The resort is gorgeous. White marble pillars, elaborate fountain features, never ending lines of palm trees greet them upon their arrival, and that’s only just the front entrance. The property is expansive, containing anything and everything one could possibly imagine. And this was home for the next six nights.

“Good evening and welcome to Luna’s Howl Spa and Resort. How may I assist you?”

“Checking-in!” Stiles replies cheerfully through his exhaustion, suitcase in tow, backpack snug on his shoulders, old faithful pillow tucked under his armpit.

“Last Name?”

“Stilin-”

“Hale,” Derek nudges himself slightly in front of Stiles, tossing his identification and credit card on the counter. 

“Ah, Mr Derek Hale. Found your reservation for you and a guest. I have you booked for double occupancy, staying with us for 6 nights?”

“Correct.”

“How many keycards will you require?”

“Tw-” Stiles starts speaking again before Derek glares him down.

“Why don’t you go wait over there,” Derek gestures towards the couches with a tilt of his head. “It looks like Lydia is already checked-in.”

Stiles purses his lips but silently wanders over towards Lydia. “All good?” she asks, clearly noticing his dejected demeanor.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just trying to be a control freak,” Stiles chuckles lightheartedly as he flops down beside her. “I just hope we aren’t at each other’s throats all week long. We should have enough space in the room to keep our sanity…” he trails off, reading the expression all over Lydia’ face. “What?”

“These rooms aren’t exactly spacious, Stiles. Resorts go for occupancy over lush accommodations unless you’re able to afford the bigger suites which, let’s face it, the majority of our friends can’t,” dropping facts while fiddling with her sunhat in her hands. “This is why I stay alone in a standard room. I can have my privacy without having to trip over someone constantly within my personal space while paying a little bit more.”

Stiles thinks for a brief moment before speaking up, “Hey L-”

“No, Stiles.”

“You didn’t even let me ask my question!”

She gently taps his cheek with a pair of fingers. “I’ve known you long enough to know how you operate. And the answer - is - no,” she accentuates each word with another tap of her fingers.

He playfully air-bites at Lydia’s fingers as she yanks them away. He rests his hands on her shoulders and looks directly into her eyes. “So, when, not if, Derek murders me, I hope you’re still able to sleep at night knowing this is on _your_ conscience.”

“Oh I will. In my single occupancy room- HEY!” Lydia topples sideways on the couch as Stiles playfully pushes her over with his pillow.

“We ready to go?” Allison asks, walking up hand-in-hand with Scott.

Stiles shakes his head pointing to Derek, at the counter. “Just about. Waiting on him still.”

“Do we want to all drop our stuff off and meet back here?” Allison surveys the group. “Grab something quick to eat and have a chill night in? It is almost 8 o’clock and we spent most of the day in transit.”

“Works for me,” Lydia answers. “I’m in room 407.”

“We’re-” Allison looks down at the pair of keycards for her and Scott before sighing. “420.”

Scott and Stiles share a knowing look.

“Oh, grow up!” Lydia smacks Stiles with something red.

“HEY! What was that?” he asks as the same object falls onto his lap.

“Your resort wristband,” Derek answers. “Put it on. Don’t lose it. It’ll get you into the adult-only areas, all you can drink.”

Stiles glances around between the rest of the pack, Derek, Scott, and Allison’s wrists already adorned with the red Luna’s Howl band while Lydia fumbles with it by herself before Allison steps in to assist. Stiles picks up his and starts fiddling with it, awkwardly trying to wrap it around his left wrist with his right hand with no success. “Little help?” he bats his eyes Derek, wrist and wristband held out at arm’s length. Derek begrudgingly tugs the wristband before securing it around Stiles’ wrist. The perfect wrap, not too loose and not too tight. “Thanks, D! That’s great,” he beams up at him from the couch, Derek’s eyes quickly darting away.

“Let’s go. I’m starving. We’re room 519. Drop our shit off, freshen up, meet back here in 10 minutes?”

“Sounds good!” Stiles is up off the couch, snatching a keycard from Derek’s hand and running towards the elevators. “I’m getting first choice of bed!”

“...first…” Derek pauses.

“...choice?” Scott finishes.

~~~~~

Stiles bursts into the reception lobby, luggage and pillow still in hand, blowing straight past an already waiting Scott, Allison, and Lydia heading directly back to the reservation desk. He narrows his eyes, glaring over his shoulder at an exasperated Derek, hot on his heels, who’s holding his hands up defensively as he passes the rest of the pack.

“Good evening, sir. How can I-”

“There’s a problem with our room. There’s only one bed,” he snaps rudely at the innocent employee dropping his keycard on the counter. “We booked double occupancy for two people.”

“Yes, sir. I can look into it. What’s the room number?”

“519.”

“And the name on th-?”

“Stilins-”

“Hale,” Derek sighs as he reaches the counter. He mouths an apology to the check-in clerk and turns his attention to Stiles. “Just calm down for a second and let me explain.”

“Sir, the reservation has been booked for double occupancy, which is for one queen-sized bed, accommodating two people,” he answers.

“Only one bed for two people? That’s stupid. Can you give us a room with two beds?” Stiles asks. “I’m not sharing a bed with him for a whole week.”

The receptionist clacks away at his keyboard for what seems like an eternity while Stiles stews silently with Derek hovering uncomfortably close to him. “The only rooms that have more than one bed are the suites and they’re all booked up for the week already.”

“Stiles, come on,” Derek pleads. “Can we just talk about this rationally?”

“What about a cot?” Stiles requests of the clerk, ignoring Derek.

“Those need to be booked a minimum week in advance and are an additional $50 per night. They’ve also been booked for the week. Spring Break is traditionally our busiest week of the year so we have extremely limited availability.”

“I guess I’ll have to take my own room then,” Stiles sighs, admitting defeat.

“Stiles, be reasonable. That’ll at minimum, triple the cost of this trip for both of us.”

Stiles looks dejectedly over at Derek, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation. He glances over at the employee, still typing away. “I’m sorry sir. We’re all booked up. Even if we had any available rooms, booking them at check-in usually runs $3,000 for this particular week.”

“$3,000?!” Stiles repeats back in shock before turning to Derek in a whisper. “What did we pay, $500 each, all-in including flight?”

Derek nods silently. “Peter helped us out considerably. It’s less than a week, Stiles. It won’t be that bad.”

“And you knew this was the room setup?”

“It’s common knowledge at resorts, or so I thought,” Derek trails off.

“And...you’re fine sharing a bed? With _me_? For an entire week?”

“Well, yeah I agreed to it didn’t I? We’ve been in the same pack for long enough now that I know how to deal with you…” Derek visibly winces, regretting his choice in words, “it… deal with the rooming situation for a vacation for all of us,” he gestures towards the rest of the pack, listening in from not far behind. “Come on,” he places a friendly hand on Stiles’ shoulder with a reaffirming squeeze. He smiles warmly at Stiles trying his best to placate him. “I wouldn’t want room with anyone else here. Not even my uncle.”

Stiles harshly shrugs Derek’s hand off his shoulder. “Thanks? I think? I’ll sleep on the floor if you want to ‘deal with me’” he air quotes spitefully. He tightens his grip on his pillow before leaving back out of the lobby. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Stiles,” Derek apologizes. 

Stiles had already made his mind up. “I’m not hungry so I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Sti- Stiles! Wait,” Scott calls out after him.

“Thanks for your help,” Derek says to the receptionist as he watches Stiles leave.

“What was that all about?” Allison asks Derek as he slowly walks up with the rest of the pack.

Derek just shakes his head. “Can we just eat and call it a night? I’m too tired to deal with all of this and his theatrics right now.”

~~~~~

Stiles throws open the door to his single bed accommodations. He chucks his pillow across the room in frustration as it bounces off the bed and rolls onto the floor. “At least you know where you belong,” he mutters to it as if it became sentient and chose its own spot. He kicks his shoes off before flopping face-down on the bed, still fully clothed. He takes a moment as the blankets settle under the weight of his body. He could probably fall asleep right here. Soft. Comfortable.

Hungry. 

Stubborn. 

Derek can’t win. At least, not on the first night.

He rolls across the width of the bed, somewhat maliciously spreading his scent over the fresh linens knowing it’ll irritate Derek enough for him to notice but not enough for him to comment. He reaches off the edge of the mattress to pick up his pillow, tossing it onto the armchair tucked in the corner. Free upgrade. He repositions his suitcase into his newly claimed corner before taking a moment to pull the curtains open and step out onto the balcony. 

The view was rather unremarkable, probably keeping the cost of the room cheaper, looking over various rooftop structures along the resort, the property and landscaping adorned with palm trees, and, based on the fading colors of the sun-kissed night sky, facing mostly east. If only for a brief, fleeting moment, Stiles sighs, calming his nerves...but he’s still hungry. He pushes back from the railing and back inside, setting up his chair-bed with his pillow and the spare blanket from the closet. “Not bad, I guess…” he rambles to no one before retrieving his pajamas from his suitcase and dipping into the bathroom for a quick shower.

He manages to get out of the shower and redressed before Derek returns from his late evening dinner with the rest of the crew. He settles uncomfortably into his chair-bed for the night facing away from the bed and towards the window, the armrests digging into both his spine and the back of his knees. He casually plays on his phone before he hears the door unlock with Derek finally reappearing.

Their eyes meet as Derek inhales to say something before stopping himself. His eyes flick down at the creased and wrinkled bed, scrunching up his face and sighing before looking back over to Stiles. Stiles’ eyes catch sight of the tray in Derek’s hands which he puts down on the edge of the bed by his chair.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Derek grunts.

“I like to think I’m a good liar. You just have that bonus ability perk unlocked.”

“Eat up before I change my mind,” Derek growls.

Stiles looks over the tray of a few chicken nuggets, some fries, and a cold Coke Zero. “No ketchup?” he antagonizes Derek.

“Stiles, I swear to god…”

“I’m just kidding. Lighten up!” Stiles pulls the tray over to himself, snacking on some fries in the process. “Thanks!”

“Is...that seriously where you’re sleeping tonight?”

“And what about it?” he answers back between bites.

Derek sighs gesturing towards the bed. “There’s a full sized bed here. Enough space for you. For both of us. Your back is going to regret that chair come morning.”

“I’m more than happy with my decision.”

“You can’t sleep there all week.”

“Watch me,” he taunts.

Derek throws his hands in the air in defeat. “Suit yourself,” he grumbles. “Breakfast is served between seven and ten in the morning. We’re meeting at eight if you’ll be so kind to grace us with your holy presence,” he bows insincerely before slamming the door to the bathroom.

~~~~~

Stiles isn’t quite sure what wakes him up first: the crack of first sunlight piercing perfectly through the break in the curtains or the searing pain in his back from where the armrest of the chair had settled in for the night. He grimaces as he pulls his head off the back of the chair, sitting upright, pulling the curtains closed while trying his best to stretch the knot out of his aching muscles to little relief.

His eyes adjust to the dark contrast of the room as he’s finally able to focus on the clock.

6:45am.

He buries his face into his hands as he wipes the sleep from his eyes. He reopens them, eyes falling on Derek. He’s on the half of the bed closest to Stiles, back turned to him, sound asleep. The bedsheet is gently draped across the narrowest part of his waist, shadows being cast across his unclothed back from his overdeveloped lat muscles. Even while he’s sleeping, he looks carved from marble. Stiles’ admiration is only broken by the rumbling of his stomach unsatisfied by the nuggets from last night. “Guess I’ll get an early breakfast,” he thinks to himself as he gets off of his chair-bed.

He quietly and sleepily shuffles along the cold tile floor to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and put on some clothes a little more appropriate for public viewing rather than his old Beacon Hills gym shirt and shorts. He slides his keycard into his pocket and sneaks out the door, trying his best not to wake Derek.

The breakfast buffet opens right as Stiles arrives. It’s far too early for the vast majority of the resort population. It’s sparsely attended, only a few couples choosing their seats as he wanders in by himself. What catches Stiles’ attention are the endless food options: bacon, eggs, potatoes in many different forms, his mouth watering just at the sight. He doesn’t even know where to begin, his eyes bigger than his stomach. By the time he finally sits down, he’s amassed two plates, one entirely of standard breakfast foods, the other an assortment of fruits, mostly pineapple but also some mangos, kiwis, and other tropical delights.

Stiles rubs his hands together in anticipation. The nuggets he had last night were good but nothing compared to the feast laid out in front of him. “Where do I even begin?” his eyes darting at his many delicious options.

As he finally decides on a piece of toast and is mid-bite, someone passing by taps his shoulder. He glances to his right. 

No one. 

Someone sits down to his left.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for that,” a gruff voice laughs.

Peter. Looking like a full on resort dad with bermuda shorts and a tropical print button-up shirt exposing a little too much chest for 7am.

“Ugh,” Stiles groans. “What are you… like eight ye-”

“-inches? How did you know?” Peter retorts before Stiles can even finish his sentence. He leans in close, breathing against Stiles’ ear, “I can show you if you’d like.” 

“Oh my god,” he drops his toast recoiling as far away from Peter as he can. “It is _far_ too early for this,” Stiles buries his face into his hands. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be than bugging me?”

“Aww rough night?” Peter asks, helping himself to a piece of Stiles’ mango. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah and you smell like shit. Leave me alone.”

“Did Derek keep you up all night?” Peter winks with a thrusting motion. “He’s a Hale. He’s got good stamina.”

“Wh...what?! No! Get your mind out of the fucking gutter for once. I just didn’t sleep well. Jet lag or something.”

“Jet lag?” Peter laughs, stabbing a kiwi slice with an extended claw. “That’s not how that works. We’re in the same time zone.”

“Whatever,” he waves Peter away trying to start his breakfast in peace. “And get your own damn food!” he snaps, sliding the plate of fruit away from Peter as he steals a piece of pineapple. “There’s a whole buffet for you to choose from.”

Stiles can’t help but watch as Peter’s teeth sink into the slice of pineapple, a drip of juice running down his chin. Peter looks satisfied at the remaining piece between his fingers. “But this tastes so much better,” he answers looking directly at Stiles, wiping his chin and licking the back of his hand. He reaches across the table to steal another piece before Stiles whacks the back of his hand with a fork.

“Stop!” he sighs exhausted before stabbing the piece of pineapple for himself. “I’ll get you your own plate of fruit if you want. Just stop eating mine!”

“Did you know…” Peter starts as he takes another bite of stolen pineapple. 

Stiles ignores him and chomps down on his own slice of pineapple before Peter has a chance to take it.

“...pineapple makes your come taste sweeter.”

Stiles chokes.

“Easy there,” Peter pats him gently on the back. “I always thought you were more skilled with your mouth.”

“GO AWAY!” Stiles makes a scene as he smacks and swats at Peter who finally pushes up from the table.

Peter’s eyes flick up behind Stiles before he leans in again. “You should try it sometime. If not, I think pineapple is Derek’s favorite fruit…”

“What’s going on?” Derek’s voice suddenly asks from behind Stiles. Stiles immediately tenses up, Peter’s comments echoing through his head.

“I was just leaving,” Peter grins mischievously. “Thanks for breakfast, Stiles. The pleasure was all mine.”

Stiles glares over his shoulder as he watches Peter leave the restaurant, nabbing an entire pineapple from the buffet on his departure, a flailing staff member chasing him down.

“What was that all about?” Derek asks as he takes a seat on the other side of Stiles.

“Just Peter things.” Stiles ducks his head the best he can, his ears flush.

“You’re up early. I heard you sneak out.”

“Yeah, sun woke me up. You were still asleep. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“How was the chair?”

Stiles sighs. “Don’t wanna talk about it…” He reluctantly nibbles into his pineapple slice in front of Derek with the most impure thoughts.

Derek inhales deeply as his eyes wander over to the buffet. “How’s the food? It smells amazing in here.”

“S’fine.”

“That pineapple looks good.”

Stiles chokes again, dropping his fork.

Derek gives him a light pat on the back “Maybe not…?” he questions with concern.

“No,” he chews and swallows as quick as his mouth allows him. “It’s...good…” he musters a smile, avoiding all eye contact with Derek.

“That’s a relief. I love pineapple.”

Stiles stares down blankly at his plates of food, wanting nothing more than to run screaming out of the dining hall and back to his room for a cold shower. Having Peter unabashedly flirt with him was bad enough but having him drag Derek into the mix was a whole other ballpark. He clasps his fingers together behind his neck, stretching from side to side, trying to ease the dull ache of the knot in his back.

He hears Derek sigh as he pushes up from the table. “You sure you’re okay?” Derek asks, his thumb landing precisely on his tender muscles, lightly applying pressure much to Stiles’ relief. Stiles hisses air between his teeth as he kneads his back against Derek’s thumb. “I’m going to grab some food. Back in a sec,” he gently grips Stiles’ shoulder before stepping away.

Stiles reluctantly picks his fork back up and finally finishes his first slice of pineapple without any further interruptions, minus the nagging thoughts at the back of his head. Was it true? Did pineapple really have some sort of mystical properties to improve the taste of come? He hadn’t tasted his own in years let alone someone else’s so he had nothing to compare it to.

“Hey, grumpypants. You’re here early,” a sweet voice calls out as a hand ruffles through his still disheveled bedhead, or rather chairhead.

“Morning, Lydia,” Stiles musters up a smile between bites of food.

“You feeling better?” she takes Peter’s seat sipping a cup of coffee. Lydia is already wearing her sunhat, smelling of sunscreen, ready for the day ahead.

“Yeah just...wasn’t in the mood for company last night. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Traveling isn’t easy on everyone especially if you’re not used to it,” Lydia smiles. “How’s rooming with Derek so far? Was sharing a room and a bed really _that_ bad?”

Stiles chuckles. “Wasn’t really much of an experience. I slept in the chair.”

“You can’t be serious, Stiles. Really? You paid for that room just as much as he did. He should be sharing with you!”

“He was. It was _my_ choice to take the chair.”

“Oh, Stiles,” the disappointment dripped off Lydia’s sigh. “Suck up your pride and just share the damn bed with him. We have a full itinerary ahead of us and you need to be well rested. Sleeping in a chair isn’t doing anyone any favors, especially yourself.”

Stiles slumps back in his chair, gnawing on another piece of toast, deep in thought. He opens his mouth to argue before Lydia continues.

“But just look at him, Stiles. Most would be fighting at the chance to share a bed with Derek. Maybe he’s a good cuddler! You never know what sort of quality snuggles you could be missing out on,” she teases with an elbow to Stiles’ ribs.

“ _Snuggling with Derek?_ ” Stiles blushes as he thinks about it before turning back to Lydia. “Be my guest then!” he grins. “We can trade rooms.”

“No,” she sings with a smile. “You’ll do yourself a world of good by just taking things down a notch and relaxing. We are on vacation! Enjoy yourself, Stiles. Just a little bit!”

“Hey,” Derek smiles at Lydia as he sits back down, somehow with more food than Stiles had picked out for himself. “Get yourself some food.”

“Yeah, I probably should,” Lydia says looking over towards the buffet area. “I came to grab a seat before everyone else arrived but saw you guys were already here early.”

“What’s our schedule for today?” Derek asks.

“Well,” she begins, pulling her day-planner out from her nearly overflowing tote bag. “Breakfast at 8, but it’s 7:30 so we’re already ahead of schedule. Tour bus leaves at 9 to take us to the lagoon for the day of tubing, lazy river, and general swimming shenanigans.”

“I still need to grab a shower and get changed. I’m almost done here anyways,” he puts down his utensils, turning to Derek who has a strip of bacon hanging out of his mouth. “You good if I shower first?”

He nods silently in approval. “Just don’t take too long cause I gotta shower too.”

~~~~~

Stiles returns up to the room, the bed is messily re-made, his pillow now taking up the empty space that would be Stiles’ half of the bed. In one fluid motion, Stiles throws it back into his corner chair before closing the bathroom door behind him. It’s subtle but enough to get under his skin. Maybe it’s payback for scenting the bed upon arrival.

He quickly strips off his clothes, turning the shower on allowing it to warm up while he preens in the mirror, inspecting the fruits of his labor. Lacrosse had all but stopped once highschool ended so Stiles had to find alternative ways to keep in shape and avoid the dreaded ‘freshman-fifteen’ as they called it. He had put on a little bit of weight but most of it was muscle, helping him fill out his clothes and gain a bit of extra confidence. He flexes playfully to himself in the mirror before jumping into the shower.

He lets the water cascade through his hair and down his body as he gets adjusted to the warming temperatures of the shower.

Shampoo. Lather. Smells like coconut. Rinse.

Soap. Lather. Lavender. Scrub and rinse.

Conditioner. Lather. 

Pineapple.

“F...Fuck…” Stiles mutters as all of the morning’s conversations rush back to him just as fast as blood rushes to his growing arousal.

Was Peter right in his teasing? Did come actually taste that bad to begin with? He had licked his fingers once or twice after coming but never really had any strong feelings one way or another about it. He’d jerked off to countless videos that had ended with facials and swallowing but had never tasted someone else’s despite his best efforts. His thoughts stick on Peter sucking down his pineapple this morning as he slowly rubs his hand down the length of his now hard cock. 

Despite years of flirting and sexual banter, nothing had ever happened between Peter and Stiles. Not that Stiles wanted anything to happen between them. And as much as Peter’s constant innuendos elicited the exact response from Stiles that he wanted, Peter never acted on them either. Stiles often wonders if he accepted the bite from Peter, would things be different in that regard. Scott didn’t seem to be sexually indebted to him with his bite but Peter offered it to Stiles so maybe circumstances were different.

None of that mattered at this moment to Stiles. What mattered was how close he was to orgasm. He couldn’t battle back the thoughts of Peter licking his hand this morning at breakfast. The way he leaned in and whispered. About Derek. And how he loved pineapple. And how his come probably tasted sweet.

Fuck.

Derek. 

Derek, who he was eating breakfast with. 

Derek, who he was rooming with. 

Derek, who--

“Stiles?” a voice calls out.

Derek who was knocking on the bathroom door.

“YeaHhh?!” startled by the sound, Stiles’ voice cracked, biting his lip, suddenly fighting a losing battle as his body hits the point of no return and he orgasms, come running down the back of his fingers, his muffled grunts and moans hopefully being drowned out by the noise of the shower, Derek still standing right on the other side of the bathroom door.

“You almost done? I need to shower before we go.”

Stiles winces as he looks down at the mess he’s made of himself. “Uh huh! Almost done!” he yells back, having just come at the thought of tasting Derek’s load. 

He looks at the back of his hand, sniffing it with caution and trepidation as the warm water continues to stream down his back. He slowly moves his hands, watching the sticky fluid between his fingers. “ _Now or never…_ ” he psyches himself up and brings his hand up to meet his mouth, licking himself off the back of his knuckles. Nothing remarkable. “ _Maybe it’ll improve with more pineapple?_ ” he thinks. 

He sticks his hand under the water, rinsing the rest clean before quickly soaping himself down, rinsing, and hopping out of the shower to towel off.

And then a sudden realization.

He has no clothes. Either Derek ate his enormous amount of food extremely fast or he took way too long pleasuring himself in the shower. Probably the latter but Stiles wasn’t certain.

“Uhhh, Derek?” Stiles nervously calls out through the closed bathroom door. 

“You done?” he answers back with another question. 

“Almost but I didn’t bring any clothes in here with me so I need to come into the room and grab them.”

There’s an awkward pause of silence. “And...?”

“Well. You’re out there. And I’m in here. And I need to be out there. With only a towel.”

More awkward silence. “I don’t understand the problem?”

Stiles sighs in frustration. “Listen, I’m all kinds of awkward and shy and naked and need to not be any of those things right now and you being in the room while I need to also be in the room makes things difficult, okay?”

“Stiles,” Derek utters in disbelief. “We are at a beach resort. You wearing a towel around me is no different than a bathing suit. We’re all going to be seeing a lot of each other this week so you better get used to it sooner than later.”

Derek was right. Rooming together, going to the pool together, going to the beach together, everyone was bound to see a lot of skin over the next week. But it didn’t make the situation any less uncomfortable for Stiles. While Derek was clearly very comfortable in his skin, he had never seen Stiles shirtless and exposed before but it was a hurdle Stiles was going to have to face. He apprehensively grips the doorknob, preparing himself. “Okay. I’m going to jump out, ransack my suitcase, and come back to the bathroom to change.” He tightens his grasp on his towel, ensuring it’s security around his waist before beginning his countdown. “In three...two...one...”

Stiles flings the door open, shuffling his feet on the slick tile floor past Derek sitting on the bed, looking down at the floor, much to Stiles’ relief. Stiles hurriedly rummages for his swim shorts and beachwear as Derek suddenly makes his way to the bathroom. Where Stiles had just finished jerking off. 

“W-wait! I’m not done in there!” Stiles calls out after Derek, trying to prevent further awkwardness. 

“Just gonna wash my hands,” he ignores Stiles as he steps into the bathroom, unknowingly about to walk face first full on into Stiles’ recent arousal scent. 

Stiles can’t do anything but stare as Derek abruptly halts in his tracks, clearly taken back by what he’s encountered. He tilts his head, looking at Stiles from the corners of his eyes, brows raised saying everything he needs to with one look.

Still hunched over his suitcase wanting nothing more than to dive into it, Stiles quickly averts his eyes from Derek’s glare as he finally pulls out his striped blue board-shorts and black t-shirt. “ _Release me from this mortal plane_ ,” he quietly thinks to himself, screaming internally. He balls up his beach clothes into his hand, clinging desperately to his bath towel with the other as he shuffles past Derek and back into the bathroom. He can feel Derek’s silence on him the entire time. 

“Good thing we aren’t sharing the bed because I could have done it there,” Stiles jests trying to break the tension. 

Derek rolls his eyes closing the door with Stiles comfortably back in the confines of the bathroom. “Just...hurry up.”

Stiles drops his towel in a sigh of relief, leaning his back against the bathroom door, regaining his composure. He felt like an idiot. Not the greatest start to the morning. Aside from jerking off. That was great.

~

Stiles waits on the edge of the bed for Derek to finish getting ready, his feet dangling just above the floor, swinging back and forth somewhat impatiently, despite most of their delays being his fault.

Derek emerges looking like he walked out of Hollister ad, the picture perfect beach model. He’s wearing uncharacteristically bright clothes: fire red lifeguard shorts, mid thigh length, showing off his well developed, thick quads, and still adjusting his grey Quiksilver tank top down over his waist, his toned and recently groomed torso briefly exposed as his clothes settle into place. 

Stiles audibly gasps at the sight of Derek’s beachy attire. 

“W...what?” Derek pauses looking himself over. 

“I didn’t realize things other than black, _more_ black, and leather existed in your wardrobe!” he chuckles with a cheesy grin on his face. “I mean that in the nicest way possible! You look...” Stiles pauses, debating his word selection. Cute? Hot? Stunning? Sexy? “You look good!”

Derek simply smirks in response, his ears slightly pinkening. Stiles feels himself warming from the inside before he continues, deflecting the attention back on Derek. 

“I mean, add a puka-shell necklace and you’d cross the line into surfer dudebro territory but this is a good look for you. You should wear a variety of things. Spice up your life.” 

“I’m on vacation,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “Anyways, black leather and the beach don’t usually mix.” 

“Agreed. But who’s to say you can’t have a less brooding wardrobe back home? I’m sure Beacon Hills could use less doom and gloom without you sulking around like a walking Hot Topic mannequin.” Derek raises an eyebrow before Stiles continues. “Some leather is fine but more colors, patterns, maybe even oooh, how about stripes? That would soften your demeanor any day! You know how much a good, comfy hoodie does for one’s disposition?”

“Is that why you have fifteen?” 

“Yup. I’d be downright miserable otherwise. And nobody wants that!”

Derek chuckles softly and Stiles’ animated fashion tirade before slinging his beach bag over his shoulder. “You finally ready?” he jokes. 

“Smartass. I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Let’s go.”

~~~~~

Several hours of lazy river tubing later, the pack stops by one of the many shoreline restaurants for some light food and drinks. They decide to sit inside at a hightop table, taking advantage of a brief reprieve from the sun, heat, and humidity to enjoy the air conditioned interior.

“Cheers, everyone. Our first of many drinks to come, I’m sure. And hopefully our first of many vacations together!” Stiles’ toasts the group. 

“Oh man, this is so good!” Allison exclaims taking her first sip on a fresh pina colada. “Try it!” she shoves the straw into Scott’s mouth between his bites of food. 

“Mmmm!” Scott drinks more than his share. 

“Hey! Leave some of that for me or get your own!” Allison giggles ripping her drink away from the clutches of Scott’s lips. “How’s yours?” she asks Lydia. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a more perfect mojito in my life,” she sighs happily. “Derek, this resort is _so_ good!”

“The family came here a lot when I was a kid,” he nods in agreement, swirling his own pina colada with his straw. “Peter kept in contact with the owner over the years and he usually retreats here annually. It’s been almost a decade since I was last here,” he thinks out loud. “A lot has changed. All these new attractions and restaurants. And opening it up to human guests is a new experience.”

“What happened?” Scott asks. 

“The community is more accepting of human-were couples these days. It was more taboo back then. Times have changed and so have the restrictions. Society is more aware of it now so they wanted to allow couples who are dating to have a place to get away and enjoy themselves. Clearly the resort is thriving now. Who are they to say no to love?”

“Better than trying to hide being a werewolf at a regular resort I suppose,” Allison says nudging her shoulder against Scott. 

“Hey now! I’d be able to handle it,” he replies back reaching for a plate of nachos. “This is much better though. And I’m glad we can all enjoy this experience together.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Stiles cheers again, taking another sip from his mojito. “That’s so refreshing. I can’t get over how good this tastes! Anyone _aside_ from Scott want to try?” he laughs looking at Allison’s now mostly empty drink. “Derek?” he offers. 

Derek shakes his head raising his pina colada glass in Stiles’ direction. “No sense in me consuming human-safe alcohol when I have my own drink but thanks.” 

Stiles watches intently as Derek removes the pineapple slice from the edge of his glass, slowing sinking teeth into the soft wedge of fruit. It’s borderline pornographic the way his lips wrap around the pineapple, making sure not to miss any juices out of the sides of his mouth. 

The scene is shattered as Derek’s eyes connect with Stiles, the wolf flashing a toothy grin back his way. “Fruit always tastes better in the tropics I find,” he licks his lips, not knowing the full effect he’s having on Stiles in this moment. 

“Alright, Lydia! What’s on for the rest of the day?” Stiles quickly blurts out. 

“We’ve still got a couple hours on the river taking us back towards the resort. We should arrive back around time for the dinner buffet and whatever else we want to do in the evening. Pretty much free time for the night. Tomorrow is tree-top trekking so rest up for more physical activities.”

“We almost ready to go?” Scott asks as he contently finishes off his plate of nachos, trying to sneakily take the last of Allison’s drink. 

“Just about!” Stiles agrees. 

“Should probably re-apply some sunscreen, Stiles. The back of your neck is already looking pretty red...” Lydia says with concern as she peaks down the back of Stiles’ t-shirt.

“Wait... _re_ -apply?”

“Stiles, you _did_ put on sunscreen before we left this morning, right?” Lydia questions him. 

“No?!” the panic in his voice now becoming apparent.

“Oh sweet, summer child...” Lydia says disappointedly. 

“He didn’t either!” he points accusingly at Derek. 

Puzzled, Derek points at himself with his thumb, drinking straw hanging out of his mouth. “Werewolf.”

“So?!”

“Can’t burn. I can get a mean tan though,” Derek grins.

“Oh mannnnnnn. How bad is it?” he cranes his neck as if he were capable of looking at his own back. 

“Ouch...” Allison winces as she pulls down the back of Stiles’ t-shirt to show Scott and Derek. 

“That’s rough, buddy,” Scott consoles Stiles with a light pat on the shoulder. 

His skin immediately stings in response to Scott’s touch. “Ow ow! Scott!” he smacks him off with the back of his hand. 

“We’ll get you some aloe vera gel when we get back but for now, sunscreen up and you should probably keep your shirt on while we tube downstream so it doesn’t get any worse,” Lydia suggests as Stiles looks completely dejected. 

He watches suspiciously as Derek slyly passes Scott $5. Both immediately look guilty and avert their eyes from him, Stiles glaring them down. “Did you two...bet...on how long it would take for me to get a sunburn?!” he yells, drawing unnecessary attention to the pack. 

“Keep it down, Stiles!” Derek tries to placate him. 

“Scott won, I take it?” Stiles folds his arms across his chest. 

Both wolves stare down at their feet, awkwardly shuffling their flip flops back and forth. “I said 48 hours...” Derek trails off. 

“And I said less than 24 hours so...”

“Well, congratulations, buddy. You can provide that money to the ‘Stiles Needs Aloe Vera’ fund. A donation for a very worthy cause,” he holds his palm out as Scott sheepishly gives up his hard earned $5 bill. “Thank you for your contribution!” Stiles smiles, shoving it into a waterproof pouch before following everyone back outside to resume their afternoon tubing activities. After applying sunscreen though. 

“Sorry, can you repeat that? _How_ much is this tiny bottle?” Stiles asks the store clerk. 

“$50”

“Seriously...” he mutters to himself, louder than necessary as he starts fishing for his wallet. “That’s highway robbery!”

“Stiles, please. Hold on a sec,” Derek puts his hands on either side of his arms, moving himself between Stiles and the cashier. “Can you just charge it to room 519?” he asks. 

“Sure thing. Let me just pull up your account...”

“Derek, you don’t have to do this... It also shouldn’t be _this_ expensive for something this small?” Stiles picks up the bottle waving it in Derek’s face. 

“It’s fine. Everything being self contained on the resort grounds, things can be a little more expensive given they have a bit of a monopoly. But consider it a costly and painful lesson learned,” he winks.

“All done. Thank you for your purchase, Mr. Hale.”

“...thanks, D,” Stiles begrudgingly accepts Derek’s purchase. 

“Don’t mention it. Just...don’t forget to put on sunscreen, okay?”

“Believe me, I won’t.”

~

Arriving back in the hotel room together, Stiles’ beelines for the bathroom, peeling his shirt off to immediately inspect the damage to his usually pale skin.

“Yikes...”

From his neck down to the top of the waistband of his shorts is fried. Shoulders too. Bright, tomato red. But for Stiles, not surprisingly not his worst burn but this was going to hurt for at least a couple of days. At least he had aloe vera, even if it was an unnecessarily tiny (and expensive) bottle, it should last the duration of the trip. 

“Phew… That looks painful,” Derek pops his head in to also survey the burn for himself. Stiles instinctively reaches for his t-shirt to cover himself up but relaxes given how the earlier part of the day had already played out, relaxing and dropping his guard. “Take a cool shower and then apply the aloe vera before we head for dinner,” Derek wisely advises. “You’ll feel better.”

Stiles nods in agreement. 

“Just...” Derek pauses with a serious expression on his face. “Try not to jerk off in the shower this time?”

“OH MY GOD!” he whips his shirt at Derek as he flees from the bathroom. “I’m sorry, okay?! Sheesh.” 

Stiles closes the door behind Derek, strips off the last of his damp swimwear, and immediately jumps into the cooling waters of the shower. It stings the entire length of his back on first contact but quickly subsides, providing much needed relief to his inflamed skin. He’s extra careful as his soapy hands wash over his body, trying not to irritate his burn any further. 

Fresh out of the shower, he hangs his clothes up to dry, wrapping his towel tight around his waist, wiping the mirror clear of condensation so he can inspect where the aloe is needed, which is pretty much his entire back. He sits side-saddle on the edge of the counter, contorting his body and arms to hit every angle his hands can reach, liberally applying the green gel over his neck, shoulders, and...at least the parts of his back that he can reach. 

Stiles grunts and exerts, flailing the aloe over his back to the best of his abilities, unable to reach every inch. He sighs continuing his struggle. “Oh come on...” he grumbles out loud in frustration, full coverage a seeming impossibility. 

A gentle knock on the closed door from Derek startles Stiles. “Y-yes?”

“Everything okay?” Derek calls out. 

“Fine... I guess,” he replies defeatedly. 

He can still feel Derek’s presence on the other side of the door. “Do you need help?” he softly asks after a few seconds of hesitation, seemingly wary of crossing any unspoken boundaries. 

“Help?” he asks for clarification, somewhat aware of the direction the conversation was going in. 

“With your back.”

Stiles freezes. Derek was offering to rub Stiles back with aloe. “Uh....sure? I mean, I guess? Okay? Door is unlocked.”

Derek tentatively comes in as Stiles slides off the counter, turning his sunburnt back towards Derek, double checking the security on his bath towel. 

“Aloe?” Derek asks as Stiles places the bottle in his hands. 

“Just the middle and lower back,” Stiles instructs him with minimal words, trying to avoid a common and patented foot-in-mouth Stiles’ situation. 

While not a werewolf, Stiles’ senses were very finely tuned to the unfolding moment. He closes his eyes, fingers strumming in sequence from pinky to index along the edge of the bathroom counter as he hears Derek inch closer behind him. 

The lid snapping open on the bottle of aloe. 

Derek squeezing the aloe into his hands. 

Derek placing the aloe bottle on the counter adjacent to Stiles as he rubs the palms of his hands together, evenly coating them. 

Stiles understood every sound. Well, nearly every one.

A hitched pause in breathing. A nervous swallow. A deep exhale of breath that faintly tickles the back of Stiles’ neck. 

“Let me know if I miss a spot...” 

Stiles jumps ever so slightly at Derek’s touch falls upon his skin. The palms of his hands make contact with the middle of Stiles’ back muscles, where his waist narrows, fingers lightly tickling around the front of Stiles’ torso. He’s fully capable of reaching there himself, even if he were actually burned where Derek was touching.

Derek’s hands sweep inwards towards the middle of Stiles’ back, slowly coating and cooling the areas that were out of his reach, finger tips smoothly tracing Stiles’ skin. Stiles’ drumming stops as he lightly grips the counter, focusing intently on each touch, pushing lightly into each wipe as Derek’s hands massage over him. 

Much to Stiles’ displeasure, Derek breaks contact with his skin but only to apply more aloe to his hands. He resumes his work traveling down the base of Stiles’ spine, fingers catching ever so briefly in the dimples of his lower back, smoothing the gel across the width of his hips. 

“How low...?” Derek starts to ask. 

“Huh?” Stiles opens his eyes, looking at Derek in the reflection of the mirror, Derek’s focus still on Stiles’ sunburn. 

“The burn. Your towel is covering part of it.”

“Oh. Just below th- Ah!” Stiles yelps as Derek’s aloe coated fingers slide under the edge of the towel, lower than Stiles had ever imagined Derek’s hands would travel. He clamps his eyes shut as Derek adjusts the towel back, closing the lid to the bottle. 

“All done,” he nudges past Stiles to rinse his hands off at the sink. “That should give you some relief at least.”

“Th-thanks,” Stiles manages to muster out in appreciation. 

“I’ll put the aloe in the fridge for later. Should feel nice and cool,” he dries his hands, leaving Stiles alone in the bathroom with his rampant thoughts running wild. “Hurry up and get dressed. We don’t want to be late for dinner!”

“Kk!”

~~~~~

After another rousing battle of “Where is Stiles sleeping?”, Derek admits defeat again, admirably still taking only half of the space in the bed while Stiles stubbornly contorts himself into his makeshift chair-bed for another night.

It isn’t until Stiles wakes up in the dead of night, pillow discarded, shoulder partially numb, and sunburn aching where his back is dug into the chair that Stiles finally starts to reconsider his poor decision and stubbornness. He sits upright, bare feet on the cold tile floor as he glances around the dark room, bleary eyed. 

“2:34am”

Stiles sighs, stretching out the kinks in his body. Relaxing his pose, his eyes fall onto Derek, sleeping on the half of the bed closest to Stiles. Unlike last night, Derek’s on his side facing towards him, furrowed brow and all, his arm tucked under the pillow but stretched out reaching at Stiles. If he were to uncurl the fingers on his hand, he’d probably be touching Stiles’ “bed”. 

Stiles quietly shuffles through the dark to the bathroom, twisting and bending while he relieves himself. At least his bladder is feeling better. 

Returning to the bedroom, he pauses in the doorway to survey his choices: go back to the chair, miserable, uncomfortable, and in considerable pain or...let Derek win. 

He sighs, begrudgingly snatching his pillow off the floor in front of his old bed, carrying it to his side of his new sleeping arrangements. He stealthily slides himself under the covers, careful not to disturb Derek or agitate his burn. Stiles lets out a disgruntled huff as he pulls the sheet up to his neck, admitting defeat, turning over to sleep.

~

Stiles jolts awake what feels like after only a short time but has slept the entire night restfully and comfortably. “ _Oh man that felt good_ ,” he thinks as he stretches out. The room is quiet so he must be awake before Derek.

He sneaks a peek over his shoulder to find Derek awake and fresh-faced, head propped up with his arm, grinning ear to ear: the smile of victory. Much like the night before, the bedsheet is draped softly over his waist, exposing muscle upon muscle in perfect view for Stiles. “Good morning. Glad you could join me in an actual bed.”

Stiles rolls his eyes looking past Derek at the chair in the corner. “Don’t listen to that! Just ignore him!” he speaks to it before turning his attention back to Derek. “Keep it down, D. They can hear you. I don’t want to upset them with this devastating heartbreak,” he falsely pouts. 

Derek is now stoned faced staring at Stiles but can’t maintain his composure, the edges of his mouth smirking back at Stiles. 

“Fine fine. You win. Does Scott now owe you $5 or did you not bet on this?”

“You’re the winner here. You get a good night of sleep in an actual bed.”

“Yeah yeah. Just keep those furry claws and feet and your half of the bed and we’ll be fine,” he brushes him away with the back of his hand rolling back over onto his side away from him pulling the sheets up to his head. 

Derek rolls his eyes dropping back down on his pillow, arms tucked under his head. “Furry claws and feet? Really?”

“Really.” 

Derek tenses up as he pulls the pillow out from under his head, gripping it tight on a collision course with Stiles torso. 

Stiles realizes what's about to happen just before it's too late. “No no no, Derek! Sunbu- Owwwwwwww! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” he cries out in agony as the pillow slaps against his body. His eyes tear up as he writhes in stinging pain. 

“Shit. Shit, Stiles! I’m sorry! I forgot!”

“You sure did you stupid ass! That fucking hurt!” he groans and winces in pain. 

“Are you okay?”

“Does it look like I’m okay?” Stiles snaps back. “Fuck, man. I can’t believe you did that,” he buries his face into the pillow to dry his eyes, kicking his feet into the mattress. 

“Stiles...” Derek says softly as he repositions himself, bedsheet falling off his waist, now kneeling adjacent to Stiles.

Stiles feels the back of his pajama shirt lifting as Derek’s hands grip the hem, pulling it upwards. Stiles instinctively smacks his hands away but Derek doesn’t relent. Stiles’ shirt is halfway up his back before Derek lets go. There’s now an extra red welt on top of Stiles’ painful sunburn, courtesy of Derek. “What are you...” Stiles breathlessly asks as he pushes up on his elbows, a nearly naked Derek, save for some tight, black boxer briefs, looming over him. 

“Hold still...”

For the second time in less than 24 hours, Derek’s increasingly familiar hands are yet again on Stiles’ body. Seems like a regular occurrence at this point so Stiles might as well get used to it. His hands surround the mark left behind by the pillow as he presses firmly against Stiles’ skin. Only briefly, Derek allows himself to take some of the pain from Stiles that he inflicted only a moment ago. 

Stiles had never experienced this sensation before. It was euphoric, feeling his pain seemingly melt away with Derek’s hands warmly pressed against his bare skin. “Mmmmm...” Stiles moans into the pillow as he allows himself to relax into the bliss of the pain-transfer. It comes out more orgasmic that he intends but it’s unavoidable given the circumstances. He’s very grateful to be lying face down at this very moment or there could be another awkward situation unfolding.

In a flash, Derek’s hands are gone, Stiles’ shirt is covering him again, and Derek's sitting on the edge of the bed away from Stiles, clearly feeling sheepish for his actions. “S-sorry... I didn’t mean.... Does it feel better?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Probably will ease the pain of the burn a little bit too.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m gonna shower before breakfast.”

After he hears the bathroom door close, Stiles rolls over onto his relatively pain-free back, glaring down his body at the obviously tented bed sheet. “Don’t you do this to me,” he says to his dick as if it were betraying everything he was currently feeling.

~~~~~

“You all will be happy to know, I lathered _all_ exposed pieces of skin with SPF 100 this morning and will be keeping my shirt on all day!” Stiles triumphantly boasts, as if practicing proper sun-care was worthy of merit.

“How is it feeling today?” Scott asks as the pack lines up for the day’s events: tree-top trekking, ziplining, and a rope course. Lydia is leading the charge, providing waivers and getting all necessary information while the rest loiter nearby. 

“Hurts like hell,” Stiles shrugs. “The aloe definitely seems to be helping,” he says, eyes flicking appreciatively at Derek who flashes a quick but meek smile back at him. 

“Hopefully you can enjoy some sun again before the trip is over but be careful!” Allison chides him as she ties her hair up into a ponytail. “Would be a shame if you have to hide from the sun for the rest of our time here.”

“Maybe I’m part vampire or something. Probably for the best to keep covered and play it safe,” he laughs and shrugs. 

“Hey guys, I need everyone to come get their harnesses, read and sign the waiver, then we should be ready to go,” Lydia announces upon her return. 

Stiles picks up his equipment, looking confusingly at the series of belts, loops, clips, and carabiners dangling in front of him. “How the hell do you put this on?”

“It’s like a rock-climbing harness,” Allison explains and she slides effortlessly into her harness, assisting Scott with his along the way. 

“You answer that as if it’s completely normal and expected that me of all people has rock-climbed before. I have the grace and stability of a newborn baby deer.”

“Okay,” Allison explains as she holds Stiles’ harness in front of him. “This is the waist. Each one of these is a leg-hole,” she demonstrates rotating it around for him, Lydia and Derek also listening in on her instructions. “This is the front. Step each leg through the waist and into the right and left side. Slide it up so it sits tight on your waist, tighten each thigh strap so it’s secure.”

Stiles takes his harness back as he flips it around trying to make sense of top and bottom, back and front. He hops on one foot as he tries his best to work his way into the harness before he gives up and sits on the floor, working the harness up his body. “Is this right?” he asks Allison who finishes securing herself and Scott. 

“Yup! Just pull it all the way up, adjust the straps and you’re good!” she smiles back before her attention is turned towards Lydia and Derek. 

“Little help?” Lydia calls out pointing at Derek as Allison comes to their rescue.

Stiles wiggles and rolls himself on the ground as the harness finally slides into its correct place, Scott helping him up off the floor. “Damn that thing is doing wonders for your ass!” Scott laughs loudly as Stiles adjusts the supports hugging under his butt. 

“Ya think so?” Stiles asks, trying to check himself out, giving it a little shake. “What do you think guys?” he laughs, shaking his ass in the direction of Allison, Derek, and Lydia, who are all focused intently on Derek’s harness. Only Derek briefly looks over, visually embarrassed about something, as the girls giggle quietly to each other. “Everything okay?”

“Doesn’t fit,” Derek grunts. 

Stiles inspects the situation, standing between Allison and Lydia. The harness fits Derek’s trim waist but the thigh straps are far too tight for his muscular legs, creating a very apparent and pronounced bulge where the fabric of his shorts and body parts are bunching up together. Stiles’ eyes go wide trying to look anywhere else but Derek’s junk, instead catches a brief glimpse of eye contact with him, Derek clearly uncomfortable with the predicament. 

“Take it off. We’ll have to get you the next size up,” Allison instructs. 

“Wooo, Derek! Take it off!” Scott jokingly cheers him on as he and Stiles laugh at his expense. 

“Not helping!” Derek snaps back through gritted teeth. “Here!” he thrusts the harness back at Allison. 

“Excuse me?” Lydia flags down an available staff member. “Do you have other sizes for someone of his stature?” she gestures towards an unimpressed Derek, arms folded sternly across his chest. She crouches down, pulling up the hem of Derek’s shorts, showing his thick legs off. 

Stiles watches as the clerk eyes up Derek for a suspiciously long time. “Let me see what I can find,” they answer back with a smirk. 

“Just go on without me guys. I don’t want to hold you all up,” Derek defeatedly sighs. 

“You’re just too swole,” Stiles flexes shamelessly. “I’m just _too_ muscular!” he mocks Derek. 

“Enough, Stiles!” Derek growls.

“Problems I wish I had to deal with,” he snorts back. 

“Let’s see what the staff can find before we decide otherwise,” Lydia puts a calming hand on the front of Derek’s shoulder. 

The clerk soon returns with another harness. “Sir, we have this harness that should be a better fit for your build. If it doesn’t properly fit, we can’t allow you to proceed for safety reasons.” His fingers brush along Derek’s hands as he passes him the new harness, throwing a quick wink Derek’s way. “Let me know if you need help putting it on.”

“Yo, did you see that?” Stiles whispers as quietly as possible to Scott, watching as Derek shimmies on his new harness. 

“No? What?”

“That guy was totally hitting on Derek!”

“Who? The resort guy?”

“Yes! He eyed Derek up and down like a piece of meat!” Stiles sneers at the resort guy as he walks off. “He can’t just be coming up into your pack like that!”

“Someone sounds a touch jealous perhaps?” Scott elbows Stiles in the ribs, eliciting a quiet yelp, loud enough to turn Derek’s attention towards the boys, not that they noticed. 

“Dude, what the hell. You can’t just drop something so casually like that!” his whispers now a little louder than before. “And no, I’m not jealous! That’s Derek!” he glances at Derek who’s discreetly adjusting his shorts. “I mean, yeah he’s gorgeous and all but come on. That’s like...forbidden territory.” He lets out an audible sigh. “I don’t know, Scott. You know what I mean though, right?” Scott stares blankly back at Stiles. “You can let me stop talking any time now.”

Scott shrugs and smirks. “You seem to be drawing a lot of attention to it for someone who’s not jealous.”

“I’m not...” Stiles looks sheepish, struggling to find the words to express himself. “I just...” 

“Hey…” Scott’s smirk is replaced by a warm, inviting smile. “Don’t worry about it, dude. You’ll figure it out.”

Scott was probably right. He was jealous of this guy making a pass at Derek but there was more to it than that. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach every time Derek’s hands were on skin. He’d never had close contact like this with Derek. He hated to admit it but he liked it. Or him. Or at least Derek touching him. Probably both. 

“I’m gonna push you out of a tree,” he jokingly threatens, shoving Scott playfully. 

“Everyone ready?” Lydia calls the group to attention. 

The pack forms a line, Derek and Allison squeezing between Stiles and Scott, all following Lydia’s lead. Stiles feels a slight tug on his shirt and a hand fall onto his hip drawing his attention to Derek sliding in line behind him. 

“Everything okay?” Derek asks leaning over Stiles’ shoulder, not removing his hand. 

“Yup!” 

Stiles lied. 

“What was that all about with Scott?”

“That? Oh it was nothing. We’re great. Everything is good. Fine. No issues at all.” he nervously spouts off.

Derek doesn’t respond back as his hand slides from Stiles’ body. 

The same staff member is the one who provides the debriefing for the pack. “Good morning, everyone. My name is Micah. Just some safety protocols to go over before we let everyone onto the course,” his eyes move down the line, stopping longer on Derek yet again. His eyes then stop on Stiles, a nervous look appears on his face. “Um...” he stammers as Stiles glares back at him. He frequently makes and breaks eye contact with Stiles as he tries to finish his dialogue. “This is Evan, he’ll be your uh course guide for the day. Please make sure to follow all safety procedures as outlined in the waiver. Uhhh. Any questions just um ask? Yeah. Ask.”

The group mingles briefly as Micah and Evan check over everyone’s harness. Micah skips Derek, leaving it for Evan while he continues on with Stiles, pausing briefly before he starts his inspection. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” he mutters quietly to Stiles. 

“Huh?”

“All good here. I’ll leave you all in Evan’s capable hands,” gives one last securing tug on Stiles’ harness before making a quick exit. 

Stiles flashes a puzzled look at Derek who responds back with a quick shrug of his shoulders. 

“Hi, everyone. As Micah said, I’m Evan and I’ll be your course guide, manager, patriarch, whatever other title you want to give me. Any questions, just ask! Otherwise, let’s go, play safe, and most importantly, have fun!”

~~~~~

End of the day at dinner, Stiles and Scott are alone at the table while everyone else is filling their dessert plates. Even Peter has graced them with a rare appearance. Stiles’ foot bounces restlessly under the table drawing Scott’s attention.

“What’s up with you today?” Scott asks a grumpy Stiles. “You’ve been like this all day.”

“I don’t know...” he trails off. “Just getting weird vibes from everything and everyone and I can’t figure out what everyone’s going on about. Did I tell you what that Micah guy said to me?”

“Only about a dozen times so far. You’re trippin’ over nothing.”

“Isn’t that exactly it though? Something’s off from the norm and I can’t put my finger on it,” Stiles pushes his rice and beans around his plate. 

“Just...act casual. Whatever’s got you worked up will sort itself out. It always does with you.”

“Yeah and that’s what worries me. I like to know ahead of time. To plan and prepare. You know how neurotic I am.”

“It’s one of your many endearing qualities, Stiles,” Scott laughs at him. “Chill out. You’ll be fine. Let it happen naturally.”

“More like...supernaturally ahahahaha.”

Scott doesn’t give him the dignity of a response. 

“Come on, you have to admit that was good,” Stiles pleads.

“No, it wasn’t.”

Allison, Derek, Lydia, and Peter return with dessert. Stiles immediately notices Derek has half a plate of pineapple that he starts eating before settling in his seat. Peter immediately notices what Stiles has noticed, flashing him a toothy grin as he steals a piece from Derek’s plate. 

“Come on, Scott. Let’s get dessert,” he quickly pulls him away from the table. 

“But Allison grabb- hey!!”

Stiles drags Scott to the far side of the buffet, well out of ear shot of Derek and Peter. 

“Dude, what the hell?”

“Peter’s on about this whole pineapple thing and it’s the worst.”

“He’s the worst.”

“Agreed but not the point!”

“Wait. What pineapple thing?” Scott questions.

“Ugh,” Stiles groans, preparing himself for the conversation he’s about to have with his best friend. “Ya know...”

“Everything okay?” Allison suddenly makes an appearance. 

“ _Oh thank god, Allison_ ” Stiles imaginatively fistpumps the air. “Yeah I just wanted company for dessert.” Not a lie. 

“I’ll be back in a sec, okay babe?”

“Mmhmm,” she nods, giving Scott a quick peck on the cheek. 

“What were you gonna say?”

“Ah never mind,” Stiles brushes off the situation. “Probably just tripping out over nothing again. Did you see how many flavors of ice cream they have?”

~~~~~

The pack all retire to their respective rooms after dinner, exhausted from the day's activities.

Derek opens the door to their unit, Stiles following behind. The door barely closes before Stiles finds himself in a defensive stance, Derek quickly closing in on his personal space. 

“Whoa whoa!” Stiles barks, hands held up to keep distance between them. His back hits the door, leaving a stinging sensation from his burn. “Dude, what the hell?” he winces through gritted teeth as the pain subsides. 

“You tell me ‘what the hell’, Stiles,” Derek’s expression immediately softens, folding his arms across his chest. “Is everything okay?”

“You mean aside from scorching sunburn?”

“You know what I mean. You’ve been acting weird all day. What’s going on?”

“Weird? This is totally normal for Stiles,” he scoffs. 

“No, it’s not. I’ve been around you long enough now to know the difference.”

Stiles shrugs with indifference. “I don’t know what to tell you, D.”

“Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

He sighs. “Just weird vibes.”

“About?” Derek presses for an answer as Stiles stares down at the floor. 

“That guy at the rope course.”

“Evan?”

Stiles shakes his head. “The other guy. Micah. He was totally hitting on you.”

“And what about it?”

“To me, it seems like a faux pas for someone to just waltz into a pack and start hitting on a werewolf.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t interested.”

“But he was.”

Derek clenches his fists at his sides, looking away from Stiles. “I’m...interested in someone else,” he grumbles. 

Stiles heart sinks.

“O-oh,” Stiles answers back eventually. “Good for you! Go get em, tiger!” he forces a brave smile onto his face. 

Derek doesn’t say anything back for a few seconds before smiling warmly back at Stiles. “Thanks. I’m trying.”

“But what about us?”

Derek’s eyes go wide in response, swallowing nervously. “U-...us?”

“Yeah, us. The pack!”

“Oh right,” he pauses. “The pack will be fine.”

“That’s a relief. Glad to hear it,” he smiles. “We good? I’d like to shower and aloe up if you’d let me into the room now...”

“Yeah,” is all Derek says back.

~~~~~

“ _...interested in someone else..._ ” replays through Stiles’ head the entire time he showers. Derek’s never mentioned anyone before. He was a good catch. Anyone could see that. It just wasn’t going to be Stiles’ to receive.

The cooling sensation of the water provides Stiles’ welcome relief. He’s not about to approach Derek to help him with the aloe on his back given what was just discussed. He’s feeling apprehensive about the bed sharing as well but he doesn’t want to have that fight for a third night in a row. 

Stiles towels off changing into his pajamas for the night, completely ignoring applying aloe to his back, not wanting to inconvenience Derek. 

Derek is already in bed on his laptop, shirtless and sun-kissed from the past days’ outdoor activities. Stiles now feels especially self-conscious given how good Derek looks with a tan while he’s half tomato. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles asks, making small talk. 

“Just looking up some activities, recommended nightclubs for the rest of the week.”

“Don’t be stepping on Lydia’s toes now. She won’t appreciate that!” Stiles jokes as he folds back the sheets on his side of the bed. 

“It’s okay. She asked me to do some research. We have a club night scheduled later this week but we haven’t chosen one yet so she wanted my help narrowing down the selection.”

Stiles leans over towards Derek, checking out his laptop screen. He hears Derek sniffing the air around him. “Wh...what?” Stiles asks, sniffing at the collar of his shirt. “I just showered.”

“You don’t smell like aloe. And you didn’t ask for my help,” Derek suspiciously eyes Stiles. 

Stiles sighs. “I didn’t put any on-“

“Really, Stiles?” Derek rolls his eyes in disbelief. 

“Look, you were already in bed and I didn’t want to bother you and-“

“Enough. Shirt. Off.” Derek shuts his laptop, grabbing the aloe bottle out of the fridge. 

“Not even going to buy me a drink first?”

“Get into the bathroom,” Derek orders Stiles with a firm point of his finger. “I’m not getting aloe all over the bed and giving you another excuse to not sleep in it.”

Stiles throws back the covers, marching to the bathroom. “Ugh fine!” He peels his shirt off, throwing it on the bed as Derek follows him into the bathroom. 

Standing in front of the mirror together, Stiles realizes he is shirtless, commando in shorts and, much like the morning, Derek is again only in boxer briefs. Grey this time. Not hiding anything from sight. 

“It’s going to be cold but it will feel nice. I promise,” Derek warns him as he squeezes the aloe into the palm of his hand. 

“If you say-ah!” Stiles inhales sharply through clenched teeth as Derek’s aloe coated hands slide around the back of Stiles’ neck, gently rubbing and massaging into his skin. “Shit dude,” Stiles manages to muster out as Derek’s cold hands work their way across the top of his back, rounding out around his shoulders. “That’s cold!”

Each new application of cold aloe sends chilling shivers down Stiles’ spine, Derek’s gentle caress not helping the situation. He clamps his eyes shut to brace for each reunion of skin on skin contact. He re-opens them as he adjusts to the cool touch, watching Derek’s face, intently focused on Stiles’ back. His hands slide under Stiles’ armpits, traveling down the sides of his back down to the waistband of his shorts. Derek pinches the sides, sliding Stiles’ shorts lower to expose the full extent of his burn.

Stiles takes a step forward, trying to keep his growing arousal under control, pressing himself against the sink. Derek follows with a step forward himself, keeping in close proximity to Stiles. 

Middle of his back, base of his spine, back dimples, all smoothly traced over with Derek’s fingers, careful not to irritate the inflamed skin any further. 

Hands slide over Stiles’ aloe coated skin one final time, fingers hooking under his waistband, pulling the shorts back into place. 

“There,” Derek says softly, seemingly content with his handiwork. “Feel better?” he asks, sliding up beside Stiles’ at the sink, his freshly washed hands dangerously close to Stiles’ concealed arousal. 

“Mmhmm.” 

He’s absolutely buzzing, unsure if Derek may have taken some of his pain away with all his intricate touching. The hairs on his arms are standing at attention. His goosebumps have goosebumps. 

“Give it a minute to dry and then you should be fine to put your shirt back on,” Derek instructs while drying his hands.

“Oka-Y,” Stiles’ voice cracks.

“Okay?”

“Yup.”

Stiles takes a deep sigh of relief, staring down at his dick with a frown on his face. “It isn’t always about you... You heard what he said earlier.”

~~~~~

Day three is a relaxing pool day. No plans other than to enjoy the finest drinks and food the resort has to offer. The adults-only pool is bustling with activity. No kids in sight. Music is blasting, drinks are flowing, and the sun is shining bright. Unfortunately, a still sunburned Stiles isn’t able to enjoy the sun, hiding under the pack’s rental cabana with Lydia, who’s there by choice.

“I hate this,” he grumbles from the protection of the canopy. “Stupid fucking sunburn.” He’s reclined in his board shorts and sunglasses, fully engulfed by shade.

“You have no one to blame but yourself,” Lydia kindly reminds him, not even taking a moment to glance up from her book. 

“I blame Derek,” he gestures towards him out in the pool frolicking with Allison and Scott. “No sunscreen and fucking looking at him! He’s perfectly bronzed! Scott too!”

“To each their own. I prefer to avoid the sun and stay pale and protected.”

“Suit yourself. This will eventually fade into a sick tan! And then you’ll be jealous.”

“But for now, you look like the Polish flag. How appropriate,” Lydia laughs.

“Whatever, Lyd,” he laughs back with her. “Man, this is so relaxing. I’m so glad we did this.”

“And just look how you were on the flight here, losing your shit over everything. Perfectly on brand for Stiles though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles brushes it off. “There was a lot going on that I had to consider. It’s all good now. Derek’s a tolerable roommate,” he says thinking fondly of Derek’s hands. 

“Mmm,” Lydia purses her lips. “And how is he in bed?”

“Lydia!” Stiles jokingly snaps back at her. “That’s inappropriate!”

“And yet a legitimate and valid question,” she presses for an answer. 

Stiles takes a moment to count on his fingers. “Well, he doesn’t snore, doesn’t hog the bed, doesn’t steal the blankets so all-in-all, pretty good?” He doesn’t add how he walks around in nothing but his underwear or how his hands have been all over his back to the verbal list. 

“Is he the big spoon or little spoon?” she antagonizes Stiles further. 

Stiles stumbles and stutters for a quick retort. “None of those things! He is a respectful gentleman who stays on his half of the bed. And so am I!”

She gently pats Stiles on the forearm. “Well, let me know when you find out, okay?”

Stiles eyes peer over the top of his sunglasses, looking up from Lydia’s reaffirming hand to her soft face, where she’s smiling warmly back at him. “Uh, okay? Sure?” he answers back with uncertainty.

“Thanks, babe. Now would you grab me a fresh drink?” she requests in the same breath, resuming with her book. 

“Yeah yeah. In a minute.”

Stiles reclines back as he scans across the pool. Allison is up on Scott’s shoulders, play fighting 2v1 against Derek, his large frame easily dwarfing Scott, but Scott is holding his own in a decent splash battle. Derek manages to topple Allison over, sending Scott tumbling under the surface with her. 

Derek laughs victoriously wading to shallower waters. He’s wearing yet another bathing suit, his second or third of the trip, Stiles has lost count. This pair of board shorts is azure blue, not unlike his beta eyes, sitting comfortably low on his hips, adonis belt on display for all to see. Soaked with water, the shorts cling to every curve and muscle of his legs. Stiles has already seen Derek walking around in his underwear but he could still appreciate the poolside view. 

He catches Stiles looking his way, throwing him a casual wave as he slicks back his wet hair wiping his face dry, beckoning Stiles to join in the pool, to which Stiles, and his sunburn, vehemently oppose.

“What do you think of her?” an older female voice snaps Stiles back from his wandering eyes. 

“Meh,” a younger, disgruntled man answers back. 

Stiles looks at the adjacent cabana and sees an older woman, he presumes the mother, laying in the sun, extremely tan, and a pale, rather indifferent looking boy hiding in the shade not even looking up from his phone. 

“And him?” the mother continues.

“Mom, stop! I just want to relax for a little bit.”

“I know, honey, but we only have a few days left and you haven’t met anyone yet,” she encourages him. 

Stiles’ curious looks finally catch her attention as she gives Stiles a casual flick-of-her-wrist wave. “Hi there!” she smiles. Stiles gives a non-verbal greeting back, with a nod of his head and a raise of his eyebrows. 

“Honey, say ‘hi’”, she lightly swats at her son with the back of her hand. 

He rolls his eyes, ignoring her request and Stiles.

“Isn’t this place lovely?” She makes small talk. 

“Yeah,” Stiles reluctantly answers back. 

“I’m Julie. This is my son Thomas.”

“TJ,” he rudely corrects his mom. 

“Stiles.”

“Miles?” she repeats back, TJ snickers.

“No, Stiles. Like umm...That guy from One Direction.”

“Nice to meet you. And her?” she points past him. 

“Lydia.”

“Neither of you are weres?” she keenly observes unprompted. 

“ _She must be a were..._ ” Stiles concludes, which makes sense given where they are staying. “Yeah. Here with a few friends who are.”

“He’s not either,” she points to her son. “Trying to see if we can find him a mate though, right?”

“Mom!” he protests. 

“You’re were but he isn’t?” Stiles tries to make sense of the relationship. 

Julie nods. “My late husband and I were bitten unexpectedly on a date night. Mine took. And my husband’s didn’t...” she looks sad for a brief moment. “So, now it’s just Thomas and I,” she continues putting on a brave face. “He’s been so exposed to everything at this point, we figured why not find him a partner who won’t find it weird that mommy dearest is a werewolf.”

“I...see...” Stiles trails off, not sure how to answer back to all the overshared information he’s been provided. 

“Oh what about him?” Julie turns her attention back to her search for her son. 

TJ briefly glances up before doing a double-take in the opposite direction from where his mom is pointing. “Him,” he gestures with his head.

Stiles looks out into the crowd to see who has finally caught TJ’s attention. 

Of course. 

Derek. 

He’s making his way towards the cabana, three drinks in hand. “Hey!” his smile beaming white, kind eyes hidden by a flashy pair of aviators. 

“Are those for us?” Lydia asks excitedly at the sight of drinks.

“Of course,” he sits at the foot of Lydia’s beach chair. “Pina colada for you,” he passes the slushy drink to her, “And mojitos for us,” he says passing the human-safe drink to Stiles. 

“Thanks, D!” Stiles cheers him. 

“My bartender in shining armor!” Lydia rubs Derek’s forearm in gratitude. “Exactly what I needed.”

“Glad to hear it,” Derek flashes another toothy grin, raising his sunglasses to the top of his head. “You gonna join us in the water?”

“Nah. I’m perfectly content right here as long as I keep being served cold drinks by hot werewolves,” Lydia winks at Derek. “But I _will_ let you know when I need a refill.”

“Fair enough,” Derek chuckles at her openness. “How about you? Think you’re ready for some fun in the sun?”

As much as Stiles wants to play in the water with Derek, wrestling, wet body contact, he knows better than to let his personal wants and desires get the better of him and not get involved with Derek’s own relationship pursuit. That and the scorching sunburn on his back.

“Not with this burn. Probably best to stay here under cover with Lyd.”

“I’ll be fine on my own with my book,” she coerces Stiles. “And my drink.”

“There’s a covered pool bar we can sit at too. Will keep you out of the sun,” Derek reaches out to Stiles chair, gently rubbing his leg with a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” he warmly smiles. 

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the drink though,” he cheers Derek’s glass again. 

Derek puts a brief smile, cheers-ing Stiles, shooting Lydia a quick forlorn glance before heading back towards the pool in the direction of Scott and Allison. 

“You should have gone with him,” Lydia says from behind her book. 

“Why’s that?” Stiles questions her. 

She drops it into her lap, giving him a look of disbelief. “Do I really need to explain it?”

“You two are so cute together,” a voice says from behind Stiles. Julie again. 

Lydia leans forward past Stiles, lowering her sunglasses. “We’re not together,” she sternly corrects Julie, pointing between Stiles and herself. 

“Of course not, silly! I meant with him!” she points at Derek walking away, a sight anyone could appreciate.

“Neither are he and I,” puzzled, Lydia corrects her again. 

“I realize that! I’m talking about these two lovebirds,” she points at Stiles. 

“What?” he says in disbelief. 

“His scent is _all_ over you. And the way he looks at you with his eyes. And those gentle touches. Ah, so sweet!”

“No? I’m. No. I’m not,” he points between himself and Derek multiple times with flailing hands and arms. “We’re not,” Stiles gives Lydia a puzzled look to which she shrugs back softly. “I mean, yes, we are friends and we are rooming together but we aren’t a couple?”

“So, you’re saying that he’s single?” Julie asks for confirmation. 

Stiles again looks to Lydia for the answer who only gives a silent, earnest look back. “Technically yes? I think so? But he’s already got someone else he’s interested in. He told me so.”

“That’s never stopped me before!” Julie turns to her son. “You hear that, Teej? Let’s go introduce ourselves!”

Stiles sits in silence as he watches the mom and son head towards the pool area in pursuit of Derek, TJ taking a moment to flip off Stiles for whatever reason.

“Stiles...” Lydia softly starts, clearly with more meaning behind just saying his name. She’s giving him a knowing look. A look he’s becoming familiar with at this point. He’s had the same one from Scott.

“It’s fine, right?” he asks for reassurance, his fingers scratching and gripping on the fabric of the beach chair. He watches from afar as Julie introduces herself to Derek, TJ standing awkwardly off to the side in ankle deep water.

“Is it?” she questions him back, glancing down at his hands, reaching out to hold them, console him. “Or is that just what you’re telling yourself in this situation?” He jerks his hand away at her unexpected touch.

Stiles stares for what feels like an eternity at Lydia’s unwavering yet unnerving expression. “It...is?” It comes out sounding more like another question than an answer. He can feel his nerves starting to get the best of his emotional state. 

“Stiles, I...” 

“Gonna go use the bathroom, be right back.” He grabs his hotel keycard and takes off in a brisk walk. 

“St-Stiles, wait!”

Stiles was more confused than ever. Here he was, finally admitting to himself that after all these years, he had some kind of feelings towards Derek, Derek tells him he has feelings for someone, so his response is to send a mom and son after him as a potential mate? What kind of fucked up friend does that? His friends were even beginning to question his actions and motives. 

He keeps a steady pace across the pool deck, feeling Derek’s eyes burning on the side of his head. He doesn’t make direct eye-contact with him but there’s enough peripheral vision to know he’s watching Stiles the entire time, trying to subtly get his attention. 

With a final quick glance at the opposite end of the pool, Derek’s back is finally turned towards Stiles but Julie is waving back at him, throwing a flirty wink his way, laughing with her hand on Derek’s shoulder, her son sitting on the edge of the pool, still looking at his phone. 

Stiles wanders through the seemingly endless hallways of the resort before finally finding an unoccupied bathroom, securing the door closed behind him. He splashes cold water on his face wiping his hands off through his hair. “This is fine. You’ll be fine. Everything will be okay,” he psyches himself up in the mirror. “You got over Lydia. You can get over Derek...” ignoring the fact he had the rest of the week in their hotel room together. 

Head down, he charges out of the bathroom immediately walking into someone, falling to the floor. 

“Oh my god I am so sorry,” Stiles apologizes profusely as he gathers his bearings, picking himself off the floor. A hand extends down to help him back up. He willingly accepts their grip before looking at who was attached to the other end of the arm.

Peter. Orange shorts, flowy light grey button-up, completely unbuttoned, and a stylish, tan beachy fedora.

“I always thought our bodies would collide together but this isn’t at all what I had imagined,” he charmingly smirks down the length of his arm at Stiles.

Stiles rolls his eyes but begrudgingly accepts the help off the floor. 

“What? No witty come back or retort?” Peter seems surprised. “What’s wrong, son? You can tell daddy anything.”

“Ew gross. Please never call yourself daddy again.”

“Well, you can call me daddy anytime you want,” he purrs into Stiles’ ear.

Stiles gives Peter the most unimpressed, disgusted look he can muster, even if he finds it slightly amusing. Stiles just sighs, struggling to find the proper words to express what he’s feeling. Peter carefully puts a friendly arm around his sunburned shoulder. “Let’s go grab a drink somewhere quieter. You look like you need one.”

Peter leads them to the elevators where he swipes his keycard, taking them to the top floor. “Penthouse?” Stiles says with genuine surprise. 

“Perks of being a VIP.”

The elevator doors open to grandiose accommodations: full kitchen, bar, living room, at least one bathroom from what Stiles can see, and a full bedroom. “Holy shit...” he exclaimed in absolute awe. 

“You should see the view,” Peter boasts, his hand landing on the small of Stiles’ back guiding him to the terrace. The Hales sure do like touching him. 

Top floor, open balcony, hot tub, hammock, and a complete unobstructed view of the resort and the coastline. “Why you holding out on us?!” he playfully shoves Peter. “You could easily have us all up here!”

Peter shrugs in response. “I like my privacy.”

“Fair enough.”

Peter makes his way to the bar area, fully stocked. “Anything you want.”

“Amaretto sour?”

“Coming right up.”

Stiles drums his fingers nervously on the bar top, watching Peter make his cocktail. “So...” Stiles tries to break the awkward silence. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Peter asks before Stiles can come up with a conversation starter. 

“Pool. Got our own cabana for the day.”

“How quaint.” Peter briefly puts down the cocktail shaker to shuck his shirt off. 

Stiles had never seen Peter shirtless before but his usual tight, deep V-necks didn’t leave much to the imagination. Tanned, from just a few days in the sun, Peter had a solid build, well defined arms, chest, and abs. Good ole werewolf genetics. Stiles watches with intense focus as all of Peter’s muscles tense and relax with each shake, forearm veins bulging, the loud rattling sound of the ice not allowing for much conversation. 

Silence falls over the room as Peter carefully pours Stiles’ drink, garnishing the side of the glass with a pineapple wedge. Stone-faced, Stiles eyes fall between it and Peter, who’s grinning ear to ear back at him. He grabs a were-beer from his privately stocked fridge, tapping the neck against the top of Stiles’ glass. “Bottoms up,” Peter winks at him. 

“Yeah, I bet,” Stiles mischievously waggles his eyebrows at Peter. “Thanks. This tastes good.”

“Of course it does,” he says with confidence, taking another swig of his beer. “Want to sit outside?”

“As long as there’s shade. I...kind of fucked up.”

“I noticed yesterday at dinner. Follow me,” he beckons, leading Stiles back out to the balcony to a few lounge chairs, moving one under the shade of a canopy while he reclines back in the sun, chest glistening with sweat. “Good?”

Stiles nods in appreciation. 

Despite their constant flirtatious banter, they’re both remarkably silent, enjoy their respective drinks and company. It’s Peter who breaks the quiet first. 

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles shrugs. “Everything? This so-called week of relaxation has been nearly anything but.”

“Start at the beginning.”

“What are you, my therapist?”

“If you don’t want my help...”

“Sorry. This is just awkward for me.”

“We can fuck first if you’d prefer.”

Stiles coughs on his drink. “Excuse me?!”

“Ease the tension. Make us comfortable.”

“Uhhh I’m good, thanks.” 

“Your loss.”

Stiles collects and organizes his thoughts before continuing the conversation. “What do you do if you like someone and they don’t know it... but then they tell you they like someone? Person A secretly likes person B who tells person A that they like person C. Like a love triangle but person C and person A aren’t connected? So it’s like 2 lines of a triangle, I guess? Or something?”

Peter takes a sip of beer before rising to his feet to lean over the edge of the balcony. “And you’re sure you don’t wanna fuck?”

“Peter!” Stiles yells at him in disbelief. 

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he turns around, elbows on the railing behind him, sun beaming across his torso. “Well, kid...“ Peter pauses arranging his thoughts. “Is it possible person C and person A are one and the same? Making it not a triangle but a simple line just needing the right push to make a connection?” he demonstrates his process with his fingers. 

“Fat chance,” Stiles scoffs at the idea that Derek is into him of all people. 

“Is it outside the realm of the possibilities though? Are you so sure that whoever it is doesn’t like you back?” Peter proposes the idea, clearing pegging Stiles as the subject matter of discussion.

“It doesn’t work like that.” Stiles is discouraged. “At least, not with me. There’s always someone better out there to take my place.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, kid. Keep selling yourself short like that and you’re bound for failure. Think of what the success of victory would feel like if I was right. Would it be so bad to find out for yourself?”

Stiles ponders Peter’s words for a few moments, knowing he’s right. He needs to find out who Derek is interested in but doesn’t know how to go about it. “I guess if failure does strike me again, you seem down for a pity fuck,” Stiles winks at Peter, playing down the seriousness of their conversation.

“I don’t do pity fucks. I fuck because I want to, not because someone else needs to.”

Stiles is surprisingly turned on by Peter’s boldness. Probably also because he hasn’t jerked off in more than two days given what happened last time in the shower. Despite all their back and forth sexual aggressions, neither Stiles nor Peter have any meaning behind their words. They just love to rile each other up and both prefer to keep it strictly verbal and nothing physical.

“Here,” Peter pulls a spare keycard out of the pocket of his shorts. 

“What’s this for?” Stiles asks, looking it over. 

“Never know when you might need it.”

“Thanks.”

“This is only for your use. No banshees or hunters allowed up here,” Peter lays out the rules. 

“ _Ah right. Everyone else_...” he thinks, realizing he’s been gone for a long time for a bathroom break. “I should probably head back down before everyone wonders where I’ve wandered off to.”

“You’re welcome back anytime. I don’t mind your company,” Peter tips his hat, toasting Stiles with his drink. 

“Meaning you can tolerate my charming good looks and dry wit for only a short period of time before you want to slit my throat.”

“You got it, kiddo. Now get outta here,” he shoos Stiles away.

~~~~~

On the way back to the pool deck, Stiles slides by his hotel room to actually use the bathroom and re-apply sunscreen, not wanting to risk any further damage to his skin.

“Stiles?” a panicked but familiar voice calls out before Stiles can even set foot in the room. 

“Hey! Yeah it’s me!“ he calls back.

“There you are!” Derek hastily approaches the door. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Bathroom?”

Partial lie. 

“You’ve been gone for over an hour! Lydia said you left in a hurry. Everyone’s been looking for you.”

“Aw thanks. I appreciate that I was missed but I’m fine! I just took some time to walk around and explore the resort. Stopped by here again to re-apply some sunscreen before heading back down.”

Derek doesn’t look impressed by Stiles’ half truth. 

“Stiles, I-“

“Hold that thought!” he interrupts, quickly jumping into the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

“Sti-“ he hears Derek start again behind the closed door and a larger the typical sigh. 

A knock on the hotel room door is followed by the sound of voices. Scott and Allison. 

“Hey buddy, you okay?” Scott asks through the door. 

“Well I’m trying to take a piss but everyone keeps on talking to me so no?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to pee! Let me piss in peace!”

“Okay okay, sorry!”

Finally, some quiet although Stiles can hear the indistinguishable soft murmurs of voices coming from the other room. 

He promptly washes his hands and applies sunscreen to all the areas he can physically reach, still missing the vast majority of the middle lower-half of his back. He awkwardly grabs the aerosol can and sprays wildly on a hope and a prayer for full coverage. 

“Good enough...” he accepts his half-assed job. The room quickly falls silent as he emerges from the bathroom, all three staring at Stiles. “Let’s go?”

An unimpressed Derek folds his arms across his chest. “You’re ready?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You applied sunscreen, all by yourself?” Derek pressures him. 

“Sure did.”

Scott now joins and matches Derek’s unimpressed look, although nowhere near as intimidating. “Stiles, come on.”

“Guys, I’ll help him,” Allison quickly ushers Stiles back into the bathroom, escaping the rising tension in the room. 

“I’m fine, Allison. I used the spray.”

“You’re supposed to rub it in afterwards,” she explains, showing him the label. 

“Oh... Oops. Well, I was half right.”

“Here, turn around,” she instructs as she spritzes Stiles’ back. “You sure did a number with this burn. The skin still feels hot to the touch.”

“The aloe has been helping considerably. This is better than it was. You should have seen it yesterday,” he laughs at his own stupidity. 

“Hopefully you’re not applying that by yourself, too.”

“Nah, I’ve...had help.”

“Ooohhh,” Allison sings, knowing the answer to her unasked question but doesn’t press the subject matter. 

“Oh knock it off,” he playfully laughs off her teasing. 

“Stay still. I’m almost done.” Allison’s hands and touch feels different than Derek’s. Her hands are softer and less attentive than his. She covers the full territory of Stiles’ back but it’s quick and efficient, not slow and meticulous. 

She wipes the last remaining sunscreen on Stiles’ shoulders, leaving her hands there as she rests her chin on her fingers. “All good?” she smiles. 

“Think so. Thanks, Alli,” he smiles back at her. 

She gives Stiles’ shoulders a gentle, reaffirming squeeze. “Stiles, promise me...” she softly says. 

“Huh?”

“Whatever’s going on up here,” she taps the side of his head, “Will listen to what’s going on here,” she presses her hand against the center of his bare chest. 

Stiles looks down at Allison’s hand and then the reflection of it in the mirror. “You make it sound so simple.”

“That’s because sometimes it is, Stiles,” she winks at his reflection. “And if it’s not, you’re one of the most resilient guys I’ve ever met.”

“Stubborn,” he corrects Allison. 

She lets out a loud laugh. “That too!”

“Sounds like you’re actually ready to go this time?” Scott peers into the bathroom. 

“Yup. All lotioned up and ready to hide from the burning hot day star!” Stiles announces.

“Let’s go. We don’t want to keep Lydia waiting.”

A nearly full elevator arrives. As three of the four head to board, Derek pulls Stiles back a little too rough by his sunburned shoulder. “Fuck!” he winces in pain.

“We’ll wait for the next one.”

Derek and Stiles stand together in awkward silence. He gasps as Derek’s thumb unexpectedly swipes across his lower back right above his waistband. 

“She missed a spot.”

Stiles doesn’t provide a response. Thankfully the next elevator arrives, empty, and Stiles quickly jumps on board followed by Derek. 

“Did you send that woman and her son after me? For a date?” Derek immediately inquires after the doors close. There’s nowhere to run. He’s cornered.

“Yes...” Stiles pauses. “But not intentionally.” As if it makes what he did any less reprehensible. 

“Weren’t you just saying yesterday how you didn’t like what that guy did by hitting on me? And here you went and set up the same situation,” Derek spits in an accusatory tone.

“She asked me if you were single.”

Derek suddenly slams the emergency stop button, nearly sending Stiles tumbling over. 

“So what?” Derek snaps.

“So what?!” Stiles repeats Derek’s words back at him. “If you didn’t notice, Derek, she was a werewolf.”

“And?”

“Do I need to repeat myself? She asked me, ‘is-he-sin-gle?’” Stiles claps between each syllable. “And-she-was-a-were-wolf. Did you know they have this ability to detect when people are lying?”

“Okay, smart ass,” Derek rolls his eyes. 

“Look. I didn’t do it to make things awkward for you. I wasn’t in a situation that I could lie to save face. And given her tenacity, I don’t think she would have cared if I told her that you were, and I’m quoting you here, ‘interested in someone’.” Derek’s face falters as Stiles continues his tirade. “What else was I supposed to do? Her son saw you and clearly found you attractive. You and her son would have been a scowling match made in heaven. Hell, you might have made him look pleasant in comparison.”

“Alright, enough Stiles,” Derek tries to calm him down as he releases the emergency stop button. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have blamed you. Let’s just go enjoy the cabana, alright? Our vacation is half over.”

“I take it that means you and frowny face don’t have a date?”

Derek rolls his eyes for the second time in as many minutes. “No. I told her my situation and she understood.”

“Heartbreaker.”

“It’s alright. She was...very intuitive and didn’t need me to say anything. It was really her having to tell her son no and explain why.”

“That’s not awkward at all. And I know plenty about awkward,” Stiles laughs, not quite sure what Derek was talking about.

“Better her than me,” Derek shrugs. “You want to grab a drink for everyone before we settle in?”

“Yeah, sure!

~~~~~

The evenings have almost become routine on the third night of dealing with Stiles’ sunburn: dinner, cooling shower, sensual aloe application, bed. Well, Stiles likes to think of it as sensual, given how much he was enjoying it, but knows it’s really just a friend helping out would otherwise be an awkward situation.

Derek’s hands do something new every night. Tonight, he worked his thumbs into every push and movement, kneading Stiles’ back from top to bottom while applying aloe. What had first started as just getting the places Stiles couldn’t reach had now evolved into Derek doing full back coverage with the added perk of a massage. Not that Stiles was complaining. He just wasn’t sure how it got to this place. This sunburn may have been the best/worst thing to happen to him on this trip. 

A gentle breeze and the incoming sound of overnight rain trickle in through the open window, the occasional dull rumble of distant thunder breaking through the quiet night. Stiles is wide awake on his back, staring up at the ceiling giving his bedmate passing glances. Derek is fast asleep beside him, mostly on his stomach, face turned towards Stiles, arms tucked under his pillow, his breathing slow and peaceful. 

All the words and advice thrown at Stiles in the past couple of days were enough for him to write a self-help book. What did everyone know that Stiles clearly wasn’t seeing? Maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was and everyone could tell he was crushing hard on Derek. At the same time, Derek hadn’t seemed to notice or at least comment on it. He probably was just trying to save Stiles from a world of embarrassment and it was a one-sided infatuation and nothing more. Derek wasn’t interested in him. He was interested in someone else. 

He lets out a deep sigh, running his hand lazily through his hair. 

A crack of lightning pierces the sky followed by the most deafening thunder Stiles had ever heard in his life. If he wasn’t struggling to sleep before, he certainly was now. He bolts upright in bed, clutching his chest, a feeling of terror quickly passing through the pit of his stomach. 

“Holy shit!” he whispers louder than planned, his heart pounding as car alarms are silenced around the resort.

Derek barely stirs, grunting once in disapproval to his disturbed slumber. 

“Sorry... I’ll be quiet...” Stiles whispers again as he quietly slides back down onto his pillow, his heart rate barely calming down as the steady sound of rain picks up outside. 

Derek dopily grunts again, twice this time, apparently disagreeing with something regarding Stiles.

Stiles lies as still as possible, still feeling high strung from the lightning strike when an arm hooks across his ribcage, fingers tucking around his torso and under his back. He freezes as Derek shimmies closer pulling tight against Stiles, his forehead now resting against Stiles’ shoulder, his thigh overtop of Stiles’ leg. Derek inhales deeply, holds it, and exhales only once, falling back into the rhythm of tidal breathing. 

Derek was warm to the touch. Probably explained why he slept barely any clothes and no covers. But, whether it be through the close contact and comfort or some special werewolf powers, Stiles managed to ease his never ending train of thoughts to finally drift off to sleep with one last thought: What would he tell Lydia? Did this make him the big spoon or the small spoon?

~~~~~

A morning knock on the door startles Stiles awake. He’s alone in the bed, Derek nowhere to be seen or heard.

“Housekeeping!” an unusually shrill voice calls out. 

“Just a sec!” he yells back, adjusting himself as he gets out of bed to answer the door. Scott is on the other side. “This isn’t the sexy maid outfit I was expecting,” Stiles laughs, feigning disappointment. 

“Sorry, buddy!” Scott laughs back. “Lydia kidnapped Allison for a spa day before clubbing tonight so it’s just us guys for today!” he excitedly bounces into the room, diving onto the bed. 

“Der’s not here. Not sure where he is but I literally just woke up,” Stiles rubs his face sitting on the edge of the bed beside Scott. 

“You’re too late for breakfast but lunch should be starting soon if you want to wait and figure out what to do?”

“Wait. What time is it?!

“Uhh, 1130?” Scott answers by checking his watch.

“No way! How did I sleep so late? Last thing I remember was the storm and then Derek grabb-“ he stops himself. 

“Derek _grabbed_ you?” Scott raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes. Well. No. I mean... There was one bolt of lightning that scared the absolute shit out of me.”

“Yeah, everyone heard that one,” Scott agrees. 

“Right. So I guess my heartbeat was loud or something because the next thing I know Derek threw his arm over me and just kind of...held me until I calmed down and I guess we fell asleep like that...” Stiles trails off.

“Snuggled.”

“Huh?”

“You got snuggled by Derek Hale,” Scott rolls over onto his back next to Stiles, a wide grin on his face. “And you lived to tell the tale.”

“I...I guess...?”

“You guess? You definitely did,” he playfully elbows Stiles. 

“Stop that!”

“Why? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Wear it with a badge of honor.”

Stiles sighs flopping his back down on the bed running his hands through his messy bed head. “Yeah sure whatever...”

“I’m being serious here, Stiles. I don’t think you or Derek would just let anyone snuggle with them.”

“You’re severely underestimating my standards, Scotty.”

“Okay, okay fine. But Derek? Not so much.” Scott rests up on his elbows, getting fully engaged in the conversation. “First of all, he offered to share a room with _you_.”

“So what?”

“He did that full well knowing the bed situation here, unlike yourself. He knew he’d be sharing a bed with _the_ Stiles Stilinski.”

“And what about it?” Stiles asks trying to figure out the point Scott is trying to reach. 

“He wanted to room with you. He wanted to share the bed with you. He likes you.”

“Nah, he doesn’t. He told me so himself.”

Scott tilts his head to the side, looking down at a still horizontal Stiles beside him on the bed. “What did he say?”

“That he was ‘interested in someone else’,” Stiles air quotes with disdain in his voice. 

“So you told him you liked him and that’s how he responded?”

“Scott!” Stiles whacks Scott’s leg with a light fist. “I...that’s not how it happened...” he says instead of admitting he has some kind of feelings for Derek. “We were talking about the ziplining day and that leery guy being into him and then he said that.”

“Let me get this straight,” Scott thinks out loud. “Neither you nor him have told the other you like each other?”

“What?! No! I hav- I don- I...” Stiles gasps and sputters for words before finally settling on, “He’s...not into me. It’s someone else.”

“Stiles, come on, buddy,” he ruffles Stiles’ hair. “Think about it. You’re the ‘someone else‘. He probably thinks you aren’t into him and you’re both playing this scared game, afraid to lose by being wrong. You’d rather have him in your life than not at all if you are wrong. Which you’re not.”

Stiles falls silent, draping his arm over his eyes. “I don’t know, man. I’m not good at dealing with any of...whatever this whole mess is.”

“And you think Derek is? We’ve known him long enough now to see how he conveys any sort of emotion.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t,” Stiles laughs. 

“My point exactly!” Scott excitedly answers back. “He’s struggling with it as much, if not more, than you are.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Scott says but doesn’t elaborate further. “When he takes a chance, reciprocate. You’ll both know then.”

“I hope you know what you’re talking about,” he sighs. 

“When have I ever led you astray before?” Scott reassures Stiles.

“There was that one time we went to see Epic Movie...”

“Look, I apologized for that one.”

“And then Sausage Party...?”

“Okay, okay. Point taken. Just... Go for it. I wouldn’t be encouraging you if I didn’t believe it in myself. You’ll regret waiting any longer if you do.”

“Any longer?” Stiles asks for clarification. “Just how long do you think this has been going on for?”

“Long enough. This is why I’m your best friend, Stiles.”

“Thanks, Scott,” Stiles grins at him. 

“Alright, enough of this talking about feelings crap. Let’s go do something! Pool? Beach?”

“Sunburn.”

“Why don’t we rent a boogie board or two, get you a rash guard shirt, that way your burn is covered and we can do something outdoors?”

“Okay yeah that’ll work!” Stiles answers excitedly. “Let me shower first and I can meet you for lunch?”

“10-4 buddy. See you downstairs in a bit.”

Scott gives Stiles a friendly pat on the leg before leaving him alone in the room. The way Scott explained everything made so much more sense to Stiles than he could figure out in his own. Derek was dropping subtle, or sometimes way less than subtle, hints than anyone other than Stiles could have picked up on, hence why Scott laid it all out for Stiles to see. He was too clouded by his own self-doubts and insecurities to believe it. There just needed to be the right moment for both of them. 

Stiles drags himself to the bathroom for a late morning shower. He hasn’t even dipped his toe under the water when he sees the pineapple scented conditioner and has an immediate Pavlovian response. Damn Peter has conditioned his dick to react to pineapple. There could be worse things to have this reaction to. 

His balls are aching as he realizes he hasn’t come in three days. For someone who usually jerks off at least once a day, sometimes twice if he’s horny, three times if he’s just bored, three days was an eternity. He steps out of the shower and watches himself jerk off in front of the mirror, the same spot where Derek’s hands have been exploring his body.

He’s dripping precome on the edge of the counter as he quickly busts his load into the sink. “Fuck!” he cries out gripping the edge of the counter, feeling weak in the knees. He huffs, catching his breath, the steam from the shower causing sweat to bead on his skin. Without hesitation, he eagerly licks his come off his hand, lightly jerking himself with the other as he softens, riding the solo post-coitol bliss down from its high. 

It still doesn’t taste good.

~~~~~

“Watch this!” Scott yells as he runs down the surf, sliding along the coastal waves on his boogie board, abruptly coming to halt, crashing head over heels along the sand before landing back on his feet.

“Haha nice one, man!” Stiles cheers him on from the shallow waters. 

The gentle waves crash upon the shoreline as Scott and Stiles make their way up and down the beach, enjoying the surf and sand and a daytime cocktail. “Yo I’m almost done. You want another?” Scott asks Stiles from the beach holding his empty drink in the air. 

“Nah, maybe just water? Want to pace myself before we hit the club tonight!”

“Good idea! I’ll be right back!” Scott jogs up to the nearest bar leaving Stiles to play in the water. 

This was what Stiles originally wanted from this vacation: bro-time with just him and Scott. However, given the events of the past week he was more than happy to have shared it with not only Scott but everyone else, especially Derek, and maybe Peter, but more so Derek. 

He still hadn’t seen Derek since his late morning heart-to-heart with Scott but with evening fast approaching, he knew tonight at the club would be a good time. A little liquid courage never hurt any situation, especially when it came to confessing buried feelings. He wondered if they would be grinding and making out on the dance floor before the night was over.

“Stiles!” Scott calls out to him, snapping him back to reality. “Hydration has arrived!” 

Stiles waits for the next wait and slides his body onto his board, carrying him to shore. “Thanks, dude!” he cracks open the bottle, quickly chugging half of it. “Any idea when the girls are done?”

“Allison said by dinner time so we should probably head back to clean up soon,” Scott answers as he digs into the sand with his feet. “What about Derek?”

“He didn’t say anything about today to me. I hope he’s alright,” Stiles looks briefly worried as he sits down beside Scott.

“Isn’t that him coming down the beach with Peter?” Scott points off into the distance. 

Stiles squints as his eyesight follows Scott’s finger to see two beachy, shirtless werewolves in fairly short swim shorts and a third man modestly dressed in shorts and a button up. “I think so! Who are they with?” 

“Dunno,” Scott shrugs. “Hey!!” Scott calls out to them flailing his arms. 

Peter and Derek wave back, giving parting handshakes to the mystery man before joining up with Stiles and Scott. 

“Hey fellas,” Stiles smiles up from the sand. 

“Having fun?” Derek asks looking at the boogie boards beside them.

“Yeah, it’s been a good day!” Scott answers back. “Who was that?”

“The owner of the resort,” Peter says, plopping himself down in the sand beside Stiles. “He wanted to grab lunch while we were here so Derek and I met up with him today.”

“Where are the girls?” Derek asks. 

“Getting their nails and hair done at the spa,” Stiles pretend-shows off his nails. “They’ll meet us for dinner before we go to the club.”

“Oh right! That reminds me. Thanks to Peter, the owner got us on the VIP list for tonight. Bottle and table service comped!” Derek announces. 

“What?!” Scott and Stiles shout in unison. 

“You’re welcome,” Peter sneers.

“Dude, thank you!” Scott yells excitedly. “This is gonna be awesome!”

“Yeah, thanks! You joining us then?” Stiles asks Peter. 

“Nah. Not my scene. Besides, I have plans.”

“Hey, you wanna borrow my board?“ Stiles asks Derek. “I’m just taking a break for a few minutes.”

“Sure. You good Scott?” Derek asks.

“Yeah, let’s go!” he cheers running straight into the water with his board. 

Peter and Stiles sit in silence on the beach, Stiles fingers and toes digging through the sand as they watch Scott and Derek each trying to one-up the other with showmanship. 

“Hey,” Stiles shifts his weight to his right, the moist shoulder from his rash guard shirt nudging against Peter’s bare arm. He looks down at the water trickling down his arm in slight disgust and then at Stiles smiling back at him. 

“Hmm?” he arches an eyebrow. 

“Thanks.”

Peter stares back in silence for a few seconds. “For?”

He gives another friendly lean against Peter, staying in contact with him this time. “I dunno. Advice? What you’ve done to make this trip happen for all of us?” 

More uncertain silence. 

“I don’t like it when you don’t say anything,” Stiles says. 

“You’re the one who never shuts up, not me.”

“Look, I know that. But I’m trying to be gracious, okay?”

Peter smirks but doesn’t say anything. 

“What?” Stiles asks, becoming impatient with whatever game Peter is toying him with. 

“You’re gonna be just fine, kid,” he reaches around and ruffles the back of Stiles damp hair. 

“God when you say nice things like that, it’s like there’s actually some human in you.”

“Pfft. Not at all,” Peter says as if it’s beneath him.

“You want some human in you?” Stiles winks.

“Oh my god. I walked right into that one,” Peter palms his face.

~~~~~

As much as Stiles wants to be rubbed all over by Derek, and as eager as Derek seems that he wants to help, Stiles protests against having his back covered in aloe when they’re in for a night of drinks and dancing and sweat.

“You almost ready?” Stiles calls out to Derek from the bedroom, relaxing in cargo shorts and a Star Wars t-shirt, finishing his second drink since dinner. So much for pacing himself. 

“Yeah, how do I look?” Derek walks out from the bathroom in a black button up and light grey pants, fitting and tight in all the right places, a couple buttons undone on his shirt where a couple days growth of chest hair is starting to poke through. He adjusts the collar and sleeves facing the bedroom mirror while Stiles sidles up beside up. 

“Wow. I look like an absolute slob next to you,” he tugs at his t-shirt, fixing the wrinkled collar. 

“You know there’s a dress code for this place, right?” Derek looks Stiles’ wardrobe choice up and down with a discerning eye. 

“What? No! I wouldn’t have worn this if I knew that! It’s so much easier to carry all my shit!” he points to his excessive amounts of pockets. 

“Well, get changed and meet me downstairs.“

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going ahead. I don’t want to keep everyone else waiting.”

Before Derek has a chance to move, still facing the mirror together, Stiles rips his shirt off over his head and flicks the button off his shorts. He’s about to drop them when he catches Derek’s quick glance with his eyes, throwing Derek a quick wink before pushing him on his way. “I’ll be there soon.”

Derek lets out a single, clearly sexually frustrated huff before being sent out the door. 

Stiles shorts fall to the floor as he chucks them onto the bed. He hastily flips through his suitcase, grabbing a pair of black slacks and white, short sleeve button up. He quickly dons his more formal attire, admiring the cut of his shirt on his frame and the flirtiness of it’s mild transparency, able to see his moles through the fabric under the right light. He grabs a keycard off the counter and bounces out the door after Derek.

~~~~~

The thumping bass can be heard from well outside the club, before it’s even within eye-sight from the taxi. The well-dressed McCall pack lines up in the significantly shorter VIP line, thanks to Peter’s mysterious ways and connections. “Man, this is great! I’d hate to be stuck in that line,” Lydia yells over the hustle and bustle of the entertainment district looking at the non-VIP line wrapping around the building. “This place is crazy!”

“Number one resort club in the area,” Derek yells back. “Highly recommended as _the_ must-see club.”

“Oh man this is gonna be so good. Did you see the size of those margarita bowls?” Stiles points to a group sharing one on the nearby patio. 

“I’m gonna drink one just to myself,” Scott laughs.

“Challenge accepted!” Stiles shakes his hand in a friendly and mischievous bet. 

“Oh god. I’m not taking care of you when you’re sleeping on the bathroom floor,” Allison playfully shoves Scott. “You either! How many drinks have you already had?” she points at Stiles. “I’ve seen this play out enough times to know better.”

“You’re the one rooming with him. This one is your problem,” Lydia playfully shoves Stiles backwards into Derek, who catches him by his upper arms before his back collides with Derek’s chest. 

Derek rests his chin on Stiles’ shoulder, peering around to glare and him. “You’re going to be on your best behavior, got it?” he says somewhat jokingly. 

“Why? Do you have a bet with someone about who’s going to drink too much and you’re afraid to lose again?” Stiles jests back. 

Derek’s knee quickly presses into the back of Stiles thigh, making him topple slightly into Derek’s steadying arms, Stiles quickly tearing himself free from. “See? Already stumbling. Be careful.” 

“Ass!” he playfully smacks Derek’s chest. 

“Stop that, you two! We’re almost in. Get your IDs ready,” Lydia sternly instructs. 

Scott, Allison, and Lydia make it past security and into the club. When it comes time for Stiles and Derek, things go awry. 

“Identification?” the gruff security guard asks. 

“Yup...right...” Stiles starts digging into his front pockets. 

Keycard. 

“Here...” he checks his back pockets. “Here?”

Nothing. 

“Shit. Where’s my wallet?!”

“Stiles...” Derek starts, facepalming at the unfolding situation. 

“No, I know I had it when we got dressed...” he keeps checking his empty pockets in hopes his wallet will magically materialize. “Can I get in with this?” he shows the security guard his resort wristband. 

“No. Identification for age verification and VIP guest list validation.”

“Where did you last see it?” Derek asks as he clears security without issue. 

“I had it in the room...” Stiles has an epiphany. “In my fucking cargo shorts before I changed. Fuck!”

“Sir, please remove yourself from line if you can’t produce your ID.”

“Der, go on in and I’ll jog back and be right back! It’ll only take 15 minutes!”

“Stiles, no I’ll go wi-“

“Sir, out of the line. You’re holding up the crowd,” he cuts between him and Derek. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he waves off Derek and is quickly out of sight. 

~~~~~

By the time he’s back to the resort, he’s a sweaty, dehydrated mess. Jogging in well-dressed attire in the muggy, humid tropics while several drinks deep was a new experience. 

“Ugh,” Stiles wipes the excessive sweat from his brow, soaked white shirt clinging to his skin as he meanders down the winding corridors of the resort. “Finally made it,” he marches up to room 519 with his keycard. 

Denied. 

“What...” Stiles tries the door again. 

Denied. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, COME ON!” he violently rattles the door. 

Denied. 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” he bangs his head against the door. “What the fuck...” he mutters on the verge of tears looking down at the flashing red door access. 

He inspects the keycard intensely as if it’ll magically resolve the issue when he spots the writing.

VIP.

“Fucking Peter...”

He grabbed the wrong keycard. 

He sits down on the floor, back against the door, still buzzing from a few earlier drinks, debating what to do in the current situation. 

He can’t get into the club. 

He can’t contact anyone without his phone. 

He can’t get into his room. 

He can get into Peter’s room. 

Stiles sighs, reluctantly dragging himself down the hallway, defeated over his sudden and unexpected change in plans. 

He boards the empty elevator, slumping against the mirrored wall at the back as it lifts him to the penthouse suite. He spins around, taking a moment to check himself in the reflection, adjusting his disheveled shirt, untucking it from his pants, his hair messily askew but it somehow still looks good. The elevator dings as it reaches the top floor. Stiles screams as he sees someone in the reflection behind him, staring into the elevator as the doors open. 

“What the fuck?!”

The young man just stares back with a smirk on his face, unintentionally blocking Stiles from exiting. 

“Tho...mas?”

“TJ, asswipe.”

“Wow, okay. Fuck you too.”

“Already played that game,” he licks and wipes his lips. On quick glance, Stiles can see his neck freshly marked with love bites. He shoulders Stiles as they try to pass each other in the cramped elevator door. 

Stiles turns back before the door closes. “You’re a total piece of shit, you know that, Thomas?”

“Enjoy the sloppy seconds.”

Stiles flips him off as the door closes. He turns around and walks directly into Peter. 

“Really?” Stiles gives him a disapproving look. 

“Hi to you as well,” Peter greets him back. Peter’s wearing a short, white robe, unsure what is underneath, if anything at all. His skin is glistening with a light sheen of sweat from the apparent physical activities. 

“I need a drink.”

Peter shuffles over to the bar throwing together whatever is in his reach while Stiles takes a seat behind him. “Why aren’t you at the club?”

“I...I fucked up,” Stiles drops his face into his hands in frustration. “Left my wallet in the room. Grabbed the wrong keycard,” he flips up the penthouse card between two fingers, “And now here I am,” he throws his hands up in the air. “Tonight was gonna be the best night.”

“Who’s to say it can’t still be?” Peter says as he arrives with a pair of drinks and shots for him and Stiles. “Cheers!”

“Yeah yeah,” Stiles waves him off, chugging his drink almost immediately followed by the shot. “Another?” Stiles offers up his empty tumbler glass. 

Peter arches an eyebrow at the finished drink before someone else steps out of the bedroom wrapped in only a bedsheet. 

“Is there a towel around I can use?” a woman’s voice asks as Peter visibly flinches.

Julie. 

“Uhhhhhhh...” Stiles sits in stunned silence, his eyes going wide as he has a staring contest with Peter who, for maybe the first time in his life, looks ashamed. Stiles eyes flick to Julie as she reacts to recognizing him. 

“Oh hey! Smiles!”

“Stiles...”

“You know uhh... hmm...”

“Peter...” he sighs his own name.

“Yeah! Peter!”

“Yup...” Stiles trails off trying not to make things more awkward than they already are. But she keeps talking. 

“Where’s your wolfyman?”

“My...wolfy...man?” Stiles asks for clarification, full well knowing where the conversation is headed. 

“Tall, dark, handsome, and clearly only has eyes for you! I told him how cute you were together.”

Stiles can feel his cheeks flush as yet another, random observer reaches the same conclusion that everyone else had up until this point. “How about that drink?” he prods Peter again, not wanting to entertain Julie. He quickly downs another shot.

“Give me a sec...” Peter quickly ushers Julie back into the bedroom to get dressed and quickly out to the elevator.

“Bye, Style!”

He winces in disappointment. “ _Ohh so close..._ ” he jeers her in his head as Peter rejoins him at the bar. 

Peter clears his throat and tightens the belt on his robe. “Not a word...”

Stiles grins from ear to ear, finally with some sort of ammo he could use against Peter in future arguments. “Mother _and_ son? My oh my, Peter.”

“Enough.” 

“I knew you had game but consider me impressed. But I mean, you were never able to seduce me so I guess I’m not that impressed.”

Peter places the palms of his hands on the counter, intensely staring Stiles down as he takes yet another shot. “I didn’t try that hard because you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

“All talk and no action. That’s why little TJ left so quick,” he playfully continues to taunt Peter. “Probably not the mate his mother wanted for her precious son.”

“Alright, Stiles,” Peter half-heartedly swats at the air near Stiles’ face as an admission of defeat. “God. Do you ever shut up?”

“Yeah only when you come stick that dick in my mouth!” he sasses Peter who is clearly shocked and unimpressed by Stiles’ increasingly drunk antics. 

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be good to go again,” he eventually retorts, flashing his teeth with no real meaning behind his words. 

“Yeah yeah yeah...” he waves Peter off again as he grows tired of the banter with another drink in his hands. Stiles wanders to the large outdoor terrace, finding a nice, unoccupied hammock, perfect for laying in. “Easy...” he steadies himself, his balance and motor skills impeded by the large consumption of alcohol before gracefully rolling into place on his stomach. 

He places his drink on the floor, dragging his fingertips along the tile floor as he sways slowly back and forth. The gentle swinging motion of the hammock brings comfort at first but is soon overtaken by the spins of too much alcohol and not enough water. 

“Hey, Peter!!” he yells out. “Can you...can you get me some water? I’m not feeling so hot...”

“Yeah because you just took like three or four shots of vodka in a matter of minutes. Just sit tight.”

“Okayyyyyy!” he sing-shouts at Peter. 

Despite the best intentions, Stiles continues to rock himself back and forth, unable to drunkenly stop as he giggles to himself. 

Peter’s feet appear beside him as his firm grip halts the hammock. “Get up,” Peter instructs as Stiles tumbles out of the hammock, now sitting on the floor trying to find a solid structure to provide support. 

“Help me,” Stiles limply holds his arms up as Peter reaches down as lifts him up by his armpits placing him on his feet the best he can. 

“We’re gonna move you to the couch where you will stay put, drink water, and wait until Derek gets here. Okay?”

“Derek’s coming here?” Stiles starts getting emotional, worrying about everything that was his fault and the way the night panned out. 

“I texted him to let him know you were with me. I told him you were okay but he insisted on coming back.”

“He’s gonna be so mad at me. I fucked up.”

“He won’t be mad at you. And you didn’t fuck anything up,” Peter sternly says, depositing Stiles onto the furniture. “Drink your water,” he orders, forcing the cup safely into both of Stiles’ hands. Stiles silently obliges. “More,” Peter instructs. 

“I’m gonna have to pee though,” Stiles whines.

“Drink. Your. Water,” Peter growls through gritted teeth, losing patience with drunk Stiles. 

Stiles relaxes back on to the cushions behind him spilling water on himself in the process. “Aw man. I can’t do anything right,” he sighs defeatedly. “Why do I even bother...” gradually becoming more and more horizontal as Peter valiantly saves the glass of water. 

“You’ve done something right if you’ve got Derek coming to your rescue,” Peter sits down beside him, holding the glass of water between Stiles’ continued sips. “I’ve known him longer than any of you. You’re too hard on yourself.”

Stiles tries to put on a brave face, laughing through a few tears. “I’m just some stupid, drunk kid,” he sniffles. 

“Listen, Stiles.”

Peter said his name. He must mean business. 

“Derek’s been excited about this trip for weeks. He’s been looking forward to spending time with the pack for spring break. Everyone has been so busy with school that none of you have had any free time to hang out and decompress with each other. And he needed this. You all needed this.”

Stiles wipes his reddening eyes, “I gue-“

“But most of all, he was excited to spend time with you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. And he’ll kill me if I told you this.”

Stiles rubs his bleary eyes as the room continues to spin. He wanted nothing more than to be in bed right now but he had to wait for Derek, who he also wanted to be in bed with. But not like this. 

“Wake me up when he gets here...” Stiles rolls over onto his side. 

“Please don’t be sick on the couch...” Peter sullenly says, gently rubbing Stiles back. 

Stiles grunts as he begins to drift in and out of consciousness. He isn’t sure how much time passes but he wakes when he hears a soft, indistinguishable conversation between Derek and Peter. 

He feels strong arms slide under the bend in his knees, scooping gently around his back and under his arm. He stirs slightly enough when he’s lifted off the couch, head caressing into chest muscles. 

“Mmm...” Stiles groans, still drunk. “Mmderek...” he forces open his eyes, somewhat swollen and tired from the tears and alcohol. “Derek...Derek I’m sorry. I... I didn’t mean...”

“Stiles, it’s okay. Just relax.” The hum of Derek’s deep voice reverberating through his chest soothes Stiles. The quiet ding signals they’ve at least made it as far as the elevator. 

“No. No it’s not-“ he hiccups through the words. “I mest up really badly. I drank too much. I...I...”

“Ssh. Breathe, Stiles. We’ll get you to bed soon.”

“No...” Stiles protests from Derek’s arms but doesn’t physically fight him. “We wer all suppose ta go club and stuff. And then have drinks and then I was gonna dance… wit you...”

“Yeah? You wanted to dance with me?” Derek’s voice sounding warm and inviting at the thought of it. 

“Mmhmm. And we’d all have a great times buh I fucked all up. Mmsorry, Derek. I’m sorry,” he keeps drunkenly repeating himself. 

“Stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong. We’re back in the room now.”

Stiles is carried all the way to the bed before Derek sets him down. He finally gets a chance to look at his savior: hair is a mess, shirt is sweat-soaked and ripped along the back. Not to mention the sleeves are completely missing. “Wha’the hell fuck happened to ya? You’ra mess.” But it also looks oddly charming. 

Derek huffs and looks down at his feet. “Don’t worry about me,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. 

As drunk as he is, it’s obvious to Stiles that Derek must have overexerted himself to get back to the resort as quickly as he could, restricting clothing be damned. “Did eryone else have fun?”

“Yeah,” Derek smiles sitting on the edge of the bed beside Stiles. “We missed you though.”

Stiles immediately pouts as tears well up in his eyes. “Aww mannnnnn.”

“Whoa whoa whoa now. It’s okay, Stiles! You’re just drunk.”

He tries to pick his head up off the mattress but fails to do so. “I sur-am,” he slurs. “But I ruined yer night. And yer clothes. And-“

“Stiles,” Derek calmly says, a reassuring hand falling onto Stiles’ leg, dangling from the bed. “It’s okay. Really.”

“Arr you shure?” Stiles tries to look at Derek’s hand on his leg but, again, fails.

“I’m sure,” he gives Stiles' thigh a squeeze. “What do you need?”

“Mmm sleep. Water. PJs.”

“In that order?“ Derek chuckles. “Let me get you some water. Can you grab your pjs?” he asks, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the mini-fridge. 

Stiles attempts to sit up on his own but falls on to his side instead, curling into a ball. “Mm no. Don’t think I can,” he flails hopelessly from the bed, much to Derek’s continued amusement. 

“Alright, up we go,” Derek sturdies Stiles so he’s at least somewhat vertical on the bed. “Here,” he puts the water bottle into his hands and helps guide its trajectory to his lips. 

“Mmm,” Stiles protests the cold fluid slightly trickling out of his mouth as he inspects Derek’s tattered clothes. He starts giggling to himself, trying not to choke on the water. “You look ridiculous,” he bursts out laughing. 

Derek sheepishly furrows his brow, trying his best not to laugh as well while keeping Stiles upright, helping him rehydrate. “This was an expensive shirt...”

That only makes things worse. “Ahahahaha!! I mean, isa look! Like you walk out o Magic Michael er somehing!” Stiles attempts to gyrate his hips on the bed but it’s just more awkward flailing. 

“Good for water,” Derek takes the bottle away, placing it on the nightstand for later, condensation already beading down the side of the label. “If you need more water, it’s right here, okay?”

“Mmhmm yup yup!”

“Pajama time. Where are they?”

“Suitcaseeeeee-uh,” Stiles belts out a tune. 

Stiles watches as Derek nervously looks between helping him stay upright or retrieving his bedtime clothing first. Derek pauses and thinks, wiping his sweaty palms on his pant legs. “Okay...” he starts, licking his lips and running a damp hand through his hair. “Hold still the best you can, okay?”

Stiles follows instructions, resting back on his hands, feet on the floor while doing his damndest to remain sitting upright. Derek stands between his legs reaching towards his chest. “Whatreyou...” Stiles breathlessly musters out between his lips before Derek’s hands fall onto his shirt. 

The silence between them is stifling. Derek’s hands ease between the placket on Stiles’ button up, fingers sliding gently against Stiles’ warm chest. Derek starts at the middle of his shirt, intently focused. Stiles, the best he can drunkenly focus, is watching Derek’s expression: soft, fixated, and contemplative.

Derek’s fingers glide up to the next button, his tongue peeking between his teeth to help him concentrate on undressing Stiles. 

The tight collar is next. 

“Up,” Derek instructs, guiding Stiles' head to tilt back as Derek runs a finger up the length of his neck, pushing lightly from beneath Stiles’ chin. Stiles closes his eyes, breathing is labored as he feels Derek’s fingers fiddle with the fabric around his throat. He knows any werewolf could easily slit his throat in this moment of vulnerability but he implicitly trusts Derek. 

His neck is stretched towards the ceiling, a sheen of sweat glistening in the soft hotel lighting. Stiles swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing, as Derek leans in to get a better angle, his breath brushing against Stiles’ cheek, the sound of Derek licking his lips breaking through the quiet. 

With one quick pop, Stiles’ shirt is open, chest exposed to the air conditioned temperature of the room. Stiles sighs in relief, craning his neck, free from the confines of the fitted collar. He drops his head, soon realizing he’s directly facing Derek’s midsection. 

Derek’s widens the spread of the fabric, hands moving down to the unfinished buttons, his knuckles grazing against Stiles’ skin with each remaining closure. Each soft touch sends shivers down Stiles’ spine. 

Derek pops the final button open, spreading Stiles' shirt open around his waist. He takes a step back to ensure Stiles is ready for him to continue. “You good?” he asks Stiles. 

Stiles wobbles in position on the bed, now partially undressed. He sits silently, eyes closed, shirt open from neck to navel, not providing Derek the answer he’s waiting for. He can feel Derek’s eyes on him, surveying, anticipating, any sort of acknowledgement before proceeding with consent. “Mmsorry...”

Derek takes a comforting step closer to him, quietly rubbing the sleeves of his shirt. He doesn’t say anything, knowing Stiles will take the reins. 

“Tonight wuz sappose to be tha night...” he continues to slur his words.

“The nigh-?” Derek stops abruptly as Stiles arms join around the back of his waist, face falling sideways against him, his flushed cheek pressed firmly against Derek’s abdomen. Derek’s hands pause nervously, hovering just above Stiles before they settle, grasping his fingers together behind Stiles upper back. 

“ _Our_ night.”

~~~~~

Morning.

Rather early in the afternoon, Stiles finally wakes up. He’s managed to blanket burrito himself, still wearing his clothes from last night. He remembers bits and pieces of the evening, from visiting Peter to drinking way too much too fast but it all hazily blurs together. 

Despite the excessive and rapid drinking that put him under, there’s no presence of any hangover sensation. He reaches the conclusion that Derek’s alleviated him of the suffering, figuring he’s likely already suffered enough last night and took some of his pain.

Derek. 

Stiles sits up and looks around the room. A plate of toast, assorted fruit, mostly pineapple, and some pastries await on the nearby desk. No Derek to be seen or heard. 

Stiles checks his phone to group messages from the pack, letting him know they’re all at the beach and he’s welcome to join if and when he feels up to it. 

_I lived bitch_

He replies, receiving a cheer of emojis in response.

He shuffles out of bed, finally removing his pants and shirt, grabbing the breakfast/brunch/lunch tray left by Derek, and crawls back into bed in his underwear, quickly turning on the TV for the first time this week. An afternoon of Cutthroat Kitchen, Chopped, and Guy’s Grocery Games is the perfect cure for any hangover. 

His phone dings mid-toast bite. 

Scott: _Coming to the beach?_  
Stiles: _Nah. Ive had enough adventure_  
Allison: _Let us know if you need anything_  
Sourwolf: _We’re only a few minutes away_  
Sourwolf: _Wait how long has my chat name been sourwolf_  
Stiles: _;)_  
Lydia _Dinner at 5! Outdoors with entertainment._  
Lydia: _And no cargo shorts ;)_

Stiles had a few hours to lounge, relax, and recover before their last evening together, with checkout and the trip home commencing tomorrow morning. He was conflicted about whether or not he actually enjoyed this vacation. While the now mostly recovered sunburn put a damper on most outdoor activities, he did get the benefit of Derek lotioning him up with aloe. 

He wasn’t looking forward to going back to the grind of freshman year but at least vacation allowed him to turn his brain off from school for a week. Unfortunately, he instead focused this week on his feelings for Derek, which, if anything, had him more stressed out than school ever did. From what he remembers of the previous night, nothing too embarrassing happened but there was also no progress to report. 

Stiles drifts in and out of nap-mode most of the afternoon, the gentle sea-breeze blowing through the window and the quiet droning background sounds of the TV making for near perfect napping conditions. He doesn’t fully wake until rustling sounds in the hotel room stir him from his slumber. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Derek is rifling through his suitcase for clothing. It becomes quickly apparent to Stiles that his hair is damp and he’s only wearing a towel, his tattoo on full display. “Sorry if I woke you. Figured you needed the sleep.”

“S’ok,” Stiles yawns sleepily. “What time is it?”

“Just after four. We’ve got about an hour before dinner. I’m almost done getting ready then the bathroom is all yours.”

Stiles huffs, stretching all his muscles out in bed, silently watching as Derek putters around.

“How you feeling?” Derek eventually asks from the bathroom. 

“Surprisingly fine?” Stiles answers back, cracking and popping a few final joints. “Did you...” he trails off.

Derek peeks around the corner, mid-hairstyling, still nearly naked only in a small bath towel, to see Stiles making a wavy finger type motion. “Ya know...”

Derek makes the same motion back to Stiles, a brief smirk on his face. “Maybe. I hope that was okay. You passed out before I could ask...”

“No yeah it’s great! All the fun and none of the hangover!” he finally sits up in bed, thankful the sheets are still concealing his underwear. He brushes his bangs off his forehead with little success as they flop back down. “I just don’t remember much of anything after drinking at Peter’s...“

“From what Peter told me,” Derek recounts the night on his fingers, “You flipped TJ off, said some _very_ obscene things, drank way too many shots, and then passed out on his couch. All in under an hour.”

“Oh god. I’m...awful. But if I passed out upstairs, how...how’d I end up back here then?” he asks, not recalling the latter half of the night. 

Stiles can’t help notice a sudden sadness on Derek’s face. It’s brief and subtle but it catches Stiles’ eye. “I carried you back,” Derek eventually says. 

“Aw, D,” Stiles puts on his sweetest voice to try and turn the apparent mood shift. “Thanks for taking care of me last night, even if I was apparently a little shithead,” he laughs at his own misfortune. It didn’t seem to phase Derek but he can’t help but wonder what he might have said or done that’s got Derek in a tizzy. “I mean, I guess better that Peter had to deal with me than me causing a scene at the club, right?”

“Let me finish getting ready,” Derek quickly exits the conversation, much to Stiles’ displeasure. There was no evidence of anything gone wrong but if he knows the pack, someone was likely privy to the information he needed. Just a matter of him finding out.

~~~~~

Outdoor dining on the patio as a final send off for the week is a great decision. The sun was low enough on the horizon to not leave everyone sweltering and Stiles was able to enjoy the weather without having to hide and conceal under a giant umbrella or covered head to toe.

Dozens of white linen tables lined the patio, calming fountain sounds providing white noise over the chattering of voices. An open space in the middle of the tables is kept clear for foot traffic and the eventual entertainment for the evening, dancing and karaoke. 

Pre-dinner chatter is quiet, the pack, minus Peter, taking the time to graze on appetizers and enjoy the most of their final farewell meal. Stiles doesn’t have any private moments to inquire to anyone who’s not Derek about the events of last night. Nothing seems out of the ordinary for a change. Stiles gets chirped a few times for getting black out drunk but nothing he hasn’t heard before. 

Tables are soon cleared back, allowing chairs to be repositioned lining the perimeter of the dance floor before. The pack takes a row together at the front, off to the side. Two well dressed dancers take center stage for the start of the evening’s entertainment. 

After brief introductions, upbeat tempo music starts, the crowd clapping along as they dancers carry through various couples dances, starting with a rumba until the music slows down to a more traditional waltz. 

“Hey, they’re really good. We should take lessons together when we get back, babe,” Allison leans in against Scott. “Think how romantic it could be.”

“You’ve seen me try to dance. I have two left feet. Not one of those werewolf superpowers I guess,” he bops Derek on the shoulder.

“I have no issues,” he huffs with pride as Scott sighs dejectedly. 

“I’m with Scott on this one. I’m too much limb-to-terrible-coordination ratio. I’m lucky if I make it up or down a flight of stairs on my own two feet,” Stiles laughs at himself. “And that’s when I’m sober!”

“And when you’re drunk, you get carried back to your room,” Lydia slyly drops, her lips pressed to her wine glass. 

Scott’s eyes go wide. “Lydia!” he barks as she takes another innocent sip of merlot. 

Stiles and Derek make awkward eye-contact. Stiles looks away first, still unsure of the untold tale of the previous night. 

“Now we are looking for a volunteer from our audience!” the emcee calls out to a few excited cheers. 

“Oh, Scott come on! Let’s go!” Allison excitedly jumps out of her seat, trying to coerce Scott to go with her, tugging on his arm. 

Scott groans and fights back. “Nah, go on without me. I’ll do lessons with you once we’re back home, promise!” he drives a plea bargain. 

“Mmm,” Allison taps her lips before agreeing. “Deal. Besides, I think I’d prefer to dance with someone who knows what they’re doing,” she extends her hand to Derek, who was probably regretting his earlier ‘no issues’ remark. “Would you do me the honor, sir?”

Derek turns a few shades red, unhappy with the unnecessary attention suddenly being drawn to him as Scott and Stiles hoot and holler at him as he’s somewhat reluctantly dragged to the dance floor for an impromptu lesson. 

“You should go dance,” Lydia nonchalantly drops out of nowhere.

“Who, me?” Stiles questions Lydia’s motives.

“Yes, you. That’s what you told Derek you wanted to do last night.”

Stiles' face falters but seizes the opportunity to put the missing pieces back together. “Yo, will one of you two tell me what the hell happened last night?” he asks in a hushed whisper. 

“What do you mean?” Lydia asks for clarification, full well knowing nearly everything that went down via Derek.

Stiles glances over at the dance floor to see if Derek is listening before he begins to interrogate Scott and Lydia. “I don’t know. Derek was acting weird when we were talking about it before dinner... I couldn’t get a read on him,” Stiles explains, fiddling with his used cutlery. Scott and Lydia exchange knowing glances. “What? I don’t like that look...”

“Stiles...” Lydia starts before Scott stops her to continue.

“What do you remember?”

Stiles thinks again for a moment. “Getting drunk at Peter’s after I got locked out. That’s about it,” he sighs. “What did I do? Save me from the utter embarrassment, please,” he pleads, still taking frequent looks at the on-going dance lesson between Allison and Derek, to ensure he’s only seen and not heard. “Did I do something to upset Derek? Is that why he’s being strange? I gathered he had to carry me back down to the room but what else happened?”

Lydia and Scott continue to exchange glances before she gestures at him with her hand, giving him the floor to speak. 

“From what he told us, you apologized. A lot.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And you told him you wanted to dance with him,” Lydia continues. 

“Oh...” Stiles blushes. 

“And then you told him that last night was supposed to be, and I quote ‘our night’...” Scott finishes. “And then you passed out in his arms, still in your clothes.”

Stiles’ closes his eyes, vague recollections of hazy conversations still out of reach but he had no reason not to believe them. He opens them again, catching Derek’s forlorn gaze as he and Allison slowly twirl together on the dance floor. 

Next rotation, Allison gives Stiles an eager look. Clearly, if she had heard the discussion, so had Derek. Stiles poured his drunken little heart out and promptly forgot all about it, much to Derek’s dismay.

“So what do I do now?” Stiles asks, turning his back to the dance floor, somewhat stressed. “I feel like a complete jerk.”

“Well, I’m only saying this because you’re my best friend but you kind of were,” Scott answers back. “But what do you want to do?”

Before Stiles can formulate an answer, the emcee comes on over the microphone. “Let’s give it up for these two! Now, it’s your turn to show us what you’ve learned. Go grab a partner and come back to the stage!”

Allison comes bounding over, throwing Scott a quick wink before forcibly removing Lydia’s wine glass from her manicured grip, stealing her onto the dance floor. “Hey! Don’t I get a say in this?” she jokingly protests as her heels clack along the wooden tiles, playfully twirled by Allison. 

“Go, Lyd!” Stiles cheers as they pass by in front of him. His line of sight clears to see Derek waiting patiently on the other side of the girls. He doesn’t say anything. He simply extends his hand, offering this dance with Stiles. Derek’s stare is warm, inviting, saying everything he wants to say to Stiles without any words. 

Stiles' heart is pounding in his throat. Every werewolf at the resort can probably hear it. His eyes go wide, unsure how to react to this proposal. Stiles turns to Scott for reassurance, giving an approving nod in response. “Go get ‘em, buddy!” he firmly pats Stiles’ shoulders giving him a push in Derek’s direction.

“Scott! Sunburn!” Stiles boisterously yells back at him.

The edges of Derek’s lips curl up as he chuckles at Stiles’ misfortune but he is still waiting for his answer, unwavering in the moment, knowing Stiles will make the move when he’s ready. 

Stiles’ hand falls onto Derek’s open palm as he rises to his feet, fingers interlocked, being led out onto the dance floor after Derek. He can feel himself trembling with nerves, Derek lightly stroking his thumb with his own. They reach the center of the dance floor, turning to face each other as the instructor comes over to assist Stiles through the steps. 

Stiles mouth is dry, his palms sweaty as he tries to rub them dry on his shorts. Derek seems remarkably stoic in comparison but most do when compared to Stiles. 

“Do you have any dance experience?” the dancer asks Stiles. 

“Does flossing count?” Stiles smirks as Derek stifles his laughter. 

“Not...exactly. No,” the dancer dismisses Stiles’ skills before positioning him and Derek. “Put your hand here around his back,” he moves Stiles’ arm over Derek’s and around his shoulder. “Put yours here,” he moves Derek’s arm under and around Stiles’ back. “Clasp your hands together here.”

Stiles’ eyes flick up to meet Derek glancing back at him. While Derek’s hands had become intimately familiar with his back, this was really the first time Stiles had held or touched Derek in a similar manner. 

“Okay, now scooch closer to each other. This is supposed to be a romantic dance, not junior prom!” the teacher instructs, pushing Derek’s and Stiles’ bodies together. Their hips touch as he finalizes their positions. 

“Uh... Hi,” Stiles smiles as they partially embrace one another, their faces now inches apart. 

“Hey,” Derek responds back with a smile of his own. Stiles can feel his warm breath from his words brushing against his skin. 

Stiles is calming down, at least from the whole Derek situation but now the dancing situation is front and taking center stage. Literally. “I hope you know what you’re doing otherwise this is going to be a disaster.”

Derek huffs through his nose and smirks with confidence. “Just follow my lead.”

The music starts as the two pairings step and gently rotate around each other on stage, no without the odd stumbled foot or trodden toe. “Sorry,” Stiles yelps out as he clips Derek’s heel for the third time. 

Derek leans in for a closer embrace, his chin now resting on Stiles’ shoulder, his temple pressed lightly against the side of Stiles’ head. “You’re doing fine. Just have fun,” he whispers softly into Stiles’ ear. 

Stiles lets out a relaxing sigh as he watches Lydia and Allison giggle their way in circles, Lydia’s skirt flowing with each spin as they quickly break from the waltz into their own moves. He catches Lydia’s eyes, who throws a quick and encouraging wink his way, also tapping Allison to attention, a thumbs-up from her thrown into the mix. 

Derek gives Stiles a quick twirl and dip as the song ends. Stiles laughs boisterously, still being supported by Derek’s arm behind his back. “Oh man,” he continues to laugh, throwing his head back as Derek sets him back upright. “That was a blast!” he cheers along with the rest of the audience clapping. Stiles takes an over-the-top bow before Derek’s arm settles around the back of his waist. 

“Give it up for our two couples!” the emcee shouts into the mic. “The dance floor is now open for everyone. Come on up and enjoy the evening!”

As they all begin to vacate the floor, Stiles holds his arm out as Derek hooks his through the gap. “I knew you could do it,” Derek winks proudly. 

Stiles' heart is aflutter. After a whole week of back and forth mystery, they were finally on the same page and Stiles was overwhelmed with emotions. He regrets many of his actions and behaviors but none of them seemed to matter to Derek, at least in this moment. He was happy. Derek was happy. 

Stiles is taken by surprise when he’s rudely shoved to the floor, Derek ripped from his grip. “Hey!” he shouts up to see TJ’s hands reaching for Derek, dragging him back to the dance floor. “What the fuck, dude?” he snaps as he dusts himself off. 

“It’s my turn,” he spits back. 

“Uhh. No?” Stiles pulls back on Derek who gladly follows him without protest.

“Don’t you prefer sloppy seconds?” TJ rolls his eyes as he again reaches for Derek’s arm but it’s quickly shrugged off. 

“Let’s go,” Derek turns his attention back to Stiles, ignoring TJ’s advances. He rests his arm across Stiles’ shoulder. 

“Gross,” TJ shoves Stiles again. “I don’t know what you see in him.”

“Hey! That’s none of your fucking business,” Derek growls as his eyes flash blue. “Leave us alone.”

“Hey, D?” Stiles asks as he steadies his feet. “He’s completely human, right?”

“Ya, why?”

“So, this won’t hurt me one bit!“ Stiles shouts out as he takes a swing at TJ. He easily ducks out of the way and charges at Stiles as they fall together into a nearby fountain.

“Stiles!” Scott calls out as he pounces onto the floor to the rescue, Derek chasing after the fighting boys, pulling Stiles out of the shallow water. 

“Thomas, get out of there, NOW,” Julie roars over the clamoring crowd. He immediately looks dejected as he sullenly crawls out. “Apologize.”

“But mo-“

“Now!”

TJ huffs. “Sorry.”

A now dripping wet Stiles rolls his eyes and doesn’t acknowledge the non-apology being offered. He squishily stomps his way back to the table, gawkers murmuring amongst themselves. “Fucking hell. I’m soaked,” he squeezes water from the pant leg of his shorts.

“Are you okay?” Lydia asks with concern. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, I think. Not bruised bleeding as far as I can tell,” Stiles quickly inspects for any visible wounds. “Maybe just a bruised ego.”

“That was a mean left hook,” Allison commends him. 

“Would have been better if it landed. Then I wouldn’t be drenched.”

“You should probably get changed,” Scott suggests. “With the sun going down, it’s going to cool off out here and you don’t wanna get sick for the flight home.”

Stiles sighs. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he awkwardly shuffles in his water logged shoes. “I can’t believe he fucking did that. What an ass.”

“Well, you did swing at him first, Stiles,” Scott starts. 

“And miss,” Lydia quips. 

“Thank you, Lydia, for that unnecessary reminder.”

“He deserved it,” Derek grumbles quietly, seeming almost proud of Stiles coming to his defense.

“We’ll be at the bar, okay? Meet us there when you’ve changed,” Scott informs Stiles as he leaves a trail of wet footprints on his departure.

~~~~~

“Ugh,” Stiles peels off his wet polo shirt, struggling as it clings to his body, careful not to scratch his subdued sunburn. At least now he was less Flaming Hot Cheetos moron who forgot to wear sunscreen and looked more along the lines of someone who probably just spent too long in the sun. It was a mild but less painful improvement. He quickly changes into fresh boxers and clean shorts, hanging his clothes in the shower to drip dry.

Stiles grabs a towel to sop up his wet and messy hair. He looks at his reflection in the mirror, disappointed at how disheveled he now looks, realizing if he wants to look presentable for the bar, he’s going to have to shower and re-style his hair. Things were finally starting to go his way for nearly the first time this week and now he was in a state of disarray, right as the trip was coming to a close. 

He hangs his towel around his shoulders, water still beading down the back of his neck as he rubs the back of his head. He scans the bedroom, surveying his luggage strewn about, clothing on the chair, the floor, the desk, all needing to be packed before tomorrow’s departure. 

He starts picking at his clothes, smelling a few to see which are still salvageable for the flight home, his mind wandering back to his dance with Derek. He sits himself down on the side of the bed, towel draped over the front of his torso, head hung low. He’s scared to go back downstairs. Maybe the dance was just that, friends dancing. Lydia and Allison’s dance didn’t mean anything, so why would his and Derek’s be any different?

He flops back, fully onto the bed, tilting his head to the side to glance out the window, the rising moon low on the horizon. 

He’s startled by the beeping sound of a keycard unlocking the room. He turns his head to the other side as Derek returns to the room, two drinks in hand. 

“What are you doing up here?” Stiles asks, sitting up on his elbows. 

“Gin and tonic?” Derek offers him one of the two drinks.

He accepts it with both hands. “Thanks,” he smiles. 

“Figured you could use a drink.”

“You really want a repeat of last night?” Stiles snorts. 

“I said _a_ drink. Not a dozen.”

“Fair enough.”

Derek sits beside Stiles on the end of the bed, tapping their glasses together as they both take a sip. Neither say a word, Derek staring straight ahead at the turned off TV, Stiles silently swirling his glass, the quiet noise of ice colliding in his drink. The tension is heavy, both waiting for the other to speak first.

Stiles inhales to speak several times, stopping himself before saying anything, the words he wants never coming to fruition.

Derek finally breaks the silence. 

“Wanna dance?”

He’s staring down at his near empty glass, waiting for acknowledgement from Stiles. Their first dance was public but this was now a private moment between just the two of them.

Stiles cocks his head to the side, looking over and up at Derek beside who turns to meet his gaze. 

“Yea,” Stiles answers with a smile. 

Putting their drinks down, they rise to their feet, repeating the instructions from earlier: Hand on shoulder. Hand on back. Hands clasped together. Adjacent hips. Locked together in a close embrace. 

There’s no music, just the shuffling of their feet, their amused huffs and chuckles as they slowly move together in the confines of the bedroom. Their eyes never break apart, Stiles unable to contain his ear-to-ear grin, Derek’s teeth peaking out between his stifled smile. 

They end the same way as before, spin and a dip, Stiles caught in Derek’s arm both bent over before Derek brings Stiles back onto his feet. 

Stiles catches his breath as Derek bemusedly scans his face, his hair, his lips. He swallows nervously as Derek’s hands grasp at the towel still adorned around Stiles’ neck, his fingers gently playing with it, stroking against Stiles’ bare torso, Derek’s vision entranced on the exposed skin beneath. 

“Derek...” Stiles brings his attention back up, biting his lower lip in response. 

Derek tugs the towel towards him, pulling Stiles chest against his, their faces mere inches apart, Derek’s breath warm and needy against Stiles’ cheek. Stiles’ hands are trembling at his side in anticipation for the next move, the next touch, the first kiss. 

Derek’s hands slide down the towel to meet Stiles’ hands, fingers intertwining between, bringing a calming still to Stiles’ vibrating tendencies, pulling them together as close as they can be. Their foreheads meet, noses brushing briefly together. 

“So...” Stiles is breathing heavily, swallowing nervously, licking his lips in anticipation of what’s to come. “...would now be a bad time to ask you to put aloe on my sunburn?”

Derek pulls back, hands firmly on Stiles’ shoulders to look him directly in the eye, stone-faced.

Stiles winks with a cheeky smirk. 

It happens faster than Stiles is even expecting it to. Large hands move from his shoulders to cupping his jawline, holding his head steady as Derek’s lips meet his. The kiss is slow, deep, passionate. All the tension of the past week releasing in a moment. 

Derek noses at Stiles’ cheek, licking and kissing his mouth at a feverish pace, his stubble scratchy against Stiles’ soft skin. Stiles’ hands clasp together behind Derek’s neck, holding him close and tight, not allowing for any breaks between kisses. 

Hands wrap around the towel hanging on Stiles’ neck, pulling it out from in between as it’s thrown across the room. His bare chest now rubbing against Derek’s shirt. Derek’s hands carefully travel down Stiles’ back, still cautious of the sensitive sunburn before they settle at the small of his back pulling their hips together, hot friction from the fabric of their grinding shorts as their arousals grow. 

This elicits an audible response from Stiles, finally breaking their kiss as he exhales sharply, telling Derek everything he needs to know about what he’s doing and the effect it’s having on his partner. “F...fuck...” Stiles pants, forehead pressed on Derek’s shoulder as he looks down at their pronounced bulges. 

Derek’s hands slide lower, around the curve of Stiles’ ass and quickly under his thighs. He scoops him effortlessly into his arms, Stiles’ legs wrapped around Derek’s waist, ankles hooking together, as Stiles replants his lips onto Derek’s. 

Stiles is carried to the bed where he topples back, Derek falling on top of him, settling between his legs. He throws his head back, neck stretched and exposed, finally drawing Derek’s attention away from Stiles’ mouth. His lips travel up and along Stiles’ jaw, tickling below his ear, his mouth lightly sucking along his jugular vein, leaving love marks as proof of his efforts. 

Stiles is very vocal to each new part of his body that Derek’s touches for the first time. It doesn’t matter if it’s with hands, lips, or tongue, Stiles doesn’t care. He’s enjoying every moment that Derek is taking to explore his body and is sure to let Derek know. 

Derek is silent. Focused. He moves with precision, traveling lower down Stiles’ writhing body beneath him, licking, nipping, biting along his pale chest, his tongue circling Stiles’ sensitive nipple, his hand caressing the other side, dragging up his pecs to his throat. 

Each gasping cry of pleasure escaping from Stiles’ mouth only turns Derek on more. He dips his fingers past Stiles’ lips, taking his slick fingers down to Stiles’ other nipple as his mouth kisses down the thin trial of hair in the middle of Stiles’ toned abdomen. 

Stiles is panting, breathless and eager for more. His fingers tangle into Derek’s hair as his chin rests below Stiles’ navel. He softly kisses and licks the untouched skin, looking up to watch Stiles’ reaction as he kisses lower and lower on each newly unveiled surface. Stiles’ cheeks are flushed, teeth picking at his lower lip as Derek’s fingers slide along the waistband of his shorts, popping the button open with ease, gently tugging down as his fingers flirt with his Stiles’ hip muscles. 

His legs are in the air, bent at the knees, toes curling with delight as Derek pulls down the zipper on Stiles’ shorts, shimmying them down his thighs. He buries his face against Stiles’ boxers inhaling deeply at Stiles’ scent. “God, you smell so good,” is the first thing that’s not Derek’s tongue to come out of his mouth in minutes. 

He licks at the dark, wet patch of Stiles’ precome, Stiles yelping in pleasure in response as his mouth makes contact with his hard cock beneath the fabric. Stiles whines, begging for more. “Oh my god, Derek,” he throws his head back against the bed. “Don’t stop. Please.”

Derek growls in approval, hooking his fingers around the elastic of Stiles’ boxers, taking his time to slowly torture Stiles’ by kissing on each freshly exposed piece of skin. There’s a very obvious tenting brushing against Derek’s cheek as Stiles’ boxers sit at the base of his cock, Derek again burying his nose against Stiles’ pubes, inhaling and exhaling with a satisfying guttural growl. Derek is well aware all of Stiles’ arousal is a yearning for him.

Derek sits back on his knees, taking a moment to admire his work: Stiles is breathless, sweating, aroused, exposed, and marked. His fingers slide along the waistband of Stiles’ boxers, taunting and teasing. 

“Fuck! Just fucking take them off already!” Stiles cries, unable to take the tormentingly slow pace Derek’s working at to rile him up. “And lose your shirt too! Fuck!”

Stiles watches eagerly as Derek’s arm cross and grip the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one clean movement, discarded somewhere in the room, neither of them cared where in this moment. 

It had been almost a week of perfect hair growth across Derek’s chest, his bronzed skin gleaming in the soft hotel room light. Stiles can’t help but lick his lips at the sight, eager to taste and explore Derek’s body the same way he had been ravished. He’s snapped back to reality as his boxers are pulled down and off his legs along with his shorts. 

He’s now completely naked in front of Derek. He doesn’t even have the time to feel timid before he catches Derek’s gaze eyeing him up like a piece of meat, his tongue running along his canine teeth. Derek bends over, his hands wrapping around the outside of Stiles’ thighs just above the knee, pulling Stiles and his arousal closer to his face. 

Stiles’ cock is hard, swollen, dripping precome from the head. Derek kissing the inside of Stiles’ thigh, closer and closer to his aching member. “De...Derek,” he whines in a needy voice. 

He gives Stiles a look that says everything that’s about to happen is going to rock Stiles’ world in ways he’s never experienced before and there’s nothing he can do to prevent it. Not that he would want to. The charming grin on Derek’s face is absolutely devastating to Stiles’ anticipation. He can barely contain himself as Derek’s kisses reach its destination. 

His hand grips around the base of Stiles’ stiff member. The first touch nearly sends Stiles over the edge, unable to control the panting moan that escapes from his lips. 

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek purrs to get his attention, hand still firmly holding Stiles’ leaking cock. 

Stiles can barely formulate proper words as he looks down at a sight he never thought possible in his wildest dreams.

Derek sticks his tongue out, running it over the tip of the extremely sensitive head, lapping at Stiles’ precome, never breaking eye contact. Derek eagerly licks his lips, flicking his tongue against Stiles again. 

His lips kiss Stiles’ cut cock as he slowly slides the head past his lips before pulling back again. He repeats the process slower with every cry of ecstasy from Stiles. His tongue swirls around the sensitive head in his mouth, still tasting the sweet precome trickling from Stiles. 

Stiles whimpers and cries, torn between trying to watch Derek service him and not shoot his load so early into the activities. “Slow...slow down...” Stiles musters out between breaths. 

Derek’s free hand pushes Stiles chest back down against the mattress, not allowing him to watch him work, much to Stiles’ displeasure, that he lets known with another moaning whine. Derek works more of Stiles’ cock into his mouth, reaching the base as the head hits the back of his throat. He pulls all the way off with a satisfied gasp for air before sinking back down at an unbearably slow pace for Stiles. 

The groaning and squirming of Stiles are telling Derek he’s doing all the right things without any words. Stiles feels Derek’s two fingers slide into his mouth again, keen to taste any part of Derek that he can. 

Slickened fingers are removed from Stiles’ mouth, finding their way between his thighs, circling, teasing at Stiles tight hole. Stiles’ exhales sharply as this new sensation sends tingles through his entire being, aching for more. The air hisses between his teeth as Derek slips a finger into the first knuckle before sliding back out. 

Derek shimmies the crook of Stiles’ leg up on his shoulder, pushing Stiles’ knee to his own chest, allowing Derek to loom over him and nestle up beside Stiles’ face, his fingers still taunting at the sensitive bundle of nerves around Stiles’ hole. 

Stiles is panting at Derek’s mouth, pressed together but not kissing as two fingertips ease their way inside Stiles. He clamps his eyes shut as he gets adjusted to the stretch of Derek working his fingers into him. 

“Look at me,” Derek softly requests into Stiles’ ear.

Stiles winces, forcing his eyes open to Derek’s intense eyes piercing into his. 

“Feels good?”

“Mmm.”

“Yeah?” Derek pushes for a verbal answer.

“Yeah,” Stiles musters out in agreement.

Stiles groans with every press of Derek’s fingers as they both pass the first knuckle. He grabs at Derek’s wrist as he pulls his fingers all the way out, enticed to feel more of Derek inside him. He watches as Derek slides his fingers into Stiles’ precome and back between his legs, pushing in hot, much to Stiles’ enjoyment. 

“Why-...Ah!” Stiles yells as Derek’s fingers slide past the second knuckle down to the base, coming into direct contact against his prostate, more precome dripping onto his abdomen. “Fuck!” Stiles throws his head back against the bed again Derek licking at the light sheen of sweat on his neck as his fingers slide in and out of Stiles. He tugs on his cock, craving release only for his hand to be pulled away by Derek. 

“Let me come,” Stiles begs. 

“Not yet,” Derek kisses the side of Stiles’ face, nuzzling his scruff against his soft skin, still two fingers deep in him. “Better if we do it together.”

“If you-“ he cuts himself off as he moans against Derek’s face, two fingers pushed all the way inside again. “Aren’t gonna let me play with my dick, mmm-at least let me play w-with yours!” Stiles aggressively palms at the front of Derek’s shorts, somehow still wearing clothing though all of this.

Derek lets out a breathy huff against Stiles’ cheek. He’s done all the work so far so this is the first time he’s had Stiles’ hands touch him like this. 

They kneel together on the bed. Stiles is being pushy and needy, unsteady hands fumbling and failing at the button on Derek’s shorts, an eager need to return the favor. 

“Shit...” Stiles’ fingers slip again. “Come on!” 

“Hey hey hey...” Derek lightly drags his knuckles across Stiles’ chest, pinching sensitive nipples between his fingers, eliciting another vocal groan from Stiles. “It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” he continues to tweak and torment Stiles. “Take your time to enjoy the process.”

Stiles looks up at Derek under a sweaty brow, his hair askew and stuck to his forehead. His eyes are soft and glassy, cheeks flushed, biting his lower lip as Derek stares back. He swallows nervously, calming himself down for the so-called marathon, as Derek had put it.

Much like Derek had first kissed him, he cups his hands on Derek’s chiseled and scruffy jawline, deeply kissing him, hands gently sliding down his neck, resting on Derek’s broad shoulders. He traces kisses after the path of his hands, trying to leave the same love marks behind that he was now adorned with but they immediately heal. 

“Well that’s not fair...” Stiles complains, his fingers rubbing over the vanishing colors.

Derek snorts in response. 

A shuddering Derek is taken by surprise when Stiles leans down and drags his tongue up the middle of his chest and back up his neck, a light, salty taste from the sweat, taking nibbling bites at Derek’s skin along the way. Uncharacteristically, Derek throws his head back submissively, leaving himself exposed and vulnerable to Stiles, focused and lingering with his mouth. 

His head drops back down to watch as Stiles traverses lower, sampling every piece of Derek that he can. Derek’s breathing is labored, shorts straining for release at the sight before him. Stiles is completely naked, marked, his. 

Derek reaches forward to stroke Stiles but his hand is pushed away before he can touch his cock. Stiles runs his tongue along Derek’s abs, eyes fixated on Derek’s with a cheeky, devilish grin on his face. “If I can’t jerk myself, you can’t either.”

“Fucking tease...” he growls. 

“Shut up. You love it.”

Derek huffs as Stiles pops the button on his shorts, unzipping the fly with ease. The air hisses between Derek’s teeth as Stiles tauntingly slides a hand under his shorts, over top of his bulge, Stiles intently watching Derek’s face for his reaction. 

Stiles leans in closer, their bare chests pressed together, Derek’s forehead dropping to rest on Stiles’ shoulder as he watches Stiles work between them, breathing heavily as one hand continues to stroke him through his boxer-briefs, the other gently scratching at the back of his head. Stiles had barely touched Derek and he was already weak in the knees.

Stiles wanted to return the favor: make Derek squirm the same way he did to him and what better way than with his words. He was just as good with his mouth as Derek was. Just a different skill set. 

“You know...” Stiles starts, his lower lip catching against Derek’s ear as he talks, grip tightening on his cock, fingers tracing the growing wet patch around the head. 

“I bet...” he drags his fingers along the impressive length. 

“That instead of your fingers...” Stiles’ hand slips under the waistband of Derek’s underwear. 

“This...” he pulls back the foreskin, thumb gliding in circles over the precome soaked head. 

“Was stretching me open...” his breath is hot on Derek’s ear as a low growl starts to build from Derek.

“And all of me...” he pulls Derek’s hard arousal free from his boxer-briefs. 

“Was wrapped around...all of you...” he strokes Derek from base to tip. 

“We would both feel good...” he tongue darts out of his mouth, licking the tip of Derek’s ear. “Don’t you agree?”

He’s appealed to all of Derek’s primal instincts. Derek snarls as his teeth press into Stiles’ skin, delicately careful to not break the surface but hard enough for Stiles to feel, to leave a mark that will remind him of their first night together. 

Stiles cries out at the sudden bite, his other hand finding its way onto Derek’s scalp as he lingers on the side of Stiles’ neck, lapping contently at the love bite he’s created. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

Derek releases, rising to his feet, still on the bed to remove his shorts. Stiles takes the sneaky opportunity to playfully lick the tip of Derek’s cock, perfectly positioned in front of him, Derek’s precome dripping and hanging from Stiles’ lips. It’s downright filthy to see Stiles in this state: sweaty, bitten, covered in fluids and they hadn’t even started fucking yet although they both knew it was inevitably about to happen. 

Derek bends down to meet Stiles, tasting himself on Stiles’ lips with a satisfying kiss, Stiles humming for more as Derek repositions them together on the bed. Stiles is on hands and knees, Derek setting up behind him. His arms bookend on either side of Stiles, chest pressed against the heat of Stiles’ reddened back, Derek nuzzling a kiss at the base of Stiles’ neck as he’s careful not to irritate the sunburn any further. 

He tucks in close, his slick cock nestling in between Stiles’ cheeks, Derek’s precome dripping down the crack and over his hole. He softly kisses his way down Stiles’ spine, resisting the strong temptation to mark his already sun damaged skin. He reaches the transition between burnt and paleness as he crawls back on his hands and knees for a better angle to loosen Stiles up. 

“Hmmm-oh my g-“ Stiles drops down to his elbows, frantically gripping at the bedsheets as Derek’s tongue lathes against his sensitive hole. “Sh-sh...Der-“ he can’t even get a fully realized sentence out of his mouth, his face buried in the pillow, moaning in pleasure, Derek’s stubble rubbing against places Stiles had never been touched before. “F-fucking hell!”

He slides a pair of fingers back into him, rimming him in tandem, feeling his ringed muscle twitch and tighten with every obscene groan slipping out of Stiles’ mouth, a near steady stream of precome leaking onto the bed. Stiles' vocabulary was stunted as Derek repeatedly pressed against his prostate at regular pace, his tongue running circles around his hole. 

Stiles sighs at the empty feeling when Derek pulls his fingers out again, replaced by his heavy member sliding between saliva slickened cheeks. He spits down on his cock for more lube, teasingly pressing the swollen head against the eager arch that Stiles is pushing back with. 

“Lube?” Derek asks. 

“In my toiletry bag.”

“Someone’s prepared.”

“Always.”

Derek quickly returns to Stiles fingering himself, squeezing some lube onto both Stiles’ hand and his own, contently watching Stiles work himself open while jerking himself off at the sight. He gently rubs Stiles’ back, having him relax as his fingers are replaced with an increased pressure pushing into him. 

“Relax...breathe...” Derek softly coaches him, watching his grip tighten in the bedsheets, his body tense up as Stiles is stretched open around Derek, letting him gradually enter his body, inch by inch. 

Stiles curses, moans, and groans, his eyes watering at the burning sensation, adjusting to the feeling of Derek’s throbbing cock inside of him, their bodies joined together. 

There’s calming still as he feels Derek’s knees shuffle closer behind him. They stay locked together, Derek bending forward, chest pressed against back, arms holding Stiles chest, adorning his back with kisses, allowing Stiles to get adjusted to the feeling of bottoming. 

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

Derek’s hands settle on Stiles’ hips, fingers curling lightly into his flesh. He slides out to the base of the head of his cock, slowly pushing all the way back in. Stiles lets out a sound Derek’s never heard from him, unhinged and trembling with delight as his cock rubs against his partner’s prostate. It happens again as Derek continuously repeats the motion. 

“FUCK,” Stiles can barely contain himself. Each time Derek pushes back in, he wants to feel more of him, closer, harder, faster. 

Derek shudders as he feels Stiles start to push back to the increasing pace, the rhythmic sound of sweating flesh colliding together nearly drowned out by the impure grunting and panting noises from both men. 

Derek’s hands fall to Stiles’ sides, chest collapsing onto Stiles’ back, gently nuzzling against his sweat-coated skin, allowing them both a moment to breathe, Derek still slowly gyrating his hips into Stiles. Aside from their heavy breathing, the room falls quiet as they regain their stamina. 

Derek’s arms wrap around Stiles’ chest and neck, one hand caressing his pec the other caressing his chin, pulling his upper body away from the bed with ease, locking him upright, back still pressed against Derek’s chest. 

Missing the structure of the bed beneath him, Stiles own hands fumble for stability, reaching behind him for Derek. His hands palm and slide against Derek’s hips and torso, looking for something to hold onto before settling on the back of Derek’s head resting on his shoulder. Both arms stretched behind him leaving his body splayed out, Stiles holds on tight as Derek’s rhythm increases at a gradual pace from slow and deep to fast and shallow, more guttural growls emanating from his throat the quicker he goes. 

Stiles starts whining Derek’s name as the unmistakable pressure of orgasm begins to build from within. “D-De... Derek. I’m getting close.” 

Derek doesn’t relent the frantic pace of his hips. Stiles clings his fingers around Derek’s forearm as he feels his entire body tense and tighten around Derek. With one final hard push, Derek seed spills into Stiles as he himself shoots releases onto the bed. Stiles yelps in pleasure as Derek’s teeth sink into the other side of his neck with a soft clamp, now giving him a near symmetrical, matching love bite. 

“Fuck...” Derek pants breathless as he releases his teeth, forehead pressed against Stiles’ upper back, slowly lowering them both back down onto the bed, ragged and boneless. 

“Oh my god, that was incredible...” Stiles nuzzles face first into the pillow, Derek still laying on top of him. He squirms against the pressure laying on top of him before Derek settles in, spooning him from the side. 

Derek grunts, nuzzling himself against Stiles’ back, still holding him close and tight. 

“I mean, I knew it would be good but this exceeded my expectations.”

“Stiles.”

“Hmm?”

“Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying to have a moment and bask in the afterglow!”

“The only thing glowing is your sunburn.”

“Hey!” Stiles playfully smacks Derek’s thigh, currently draped over his own leg. 

Derek chuckles against Stiles as he embraces him tighter. Stiles hands intertwine with Derek’s, joined together over his midsection.

Confirmed little spoon.

~~~~~

Morning. Stiles wakes alone. Still naked but alone.

“Derek?” he calls out into the empty room. 

No response. 

He slides himself out of bed, discovering his boxers discarded from last night’s throes of passion hanging off the side of the TV. He partially redresses, meandering his way to the bathroom for much needed morning pee.

Washing his hands, he does a double take at the sight of his upper body, marked all over by Derek. “Christ almighty...” He counts almost a dozen, the largest two being on either side of his neck. 

The beeping of the door alerts him to Derek’s arrival. He walks by the bathroom door with a tray full of food before backtracking to observe Stiles in the mirror. “Morning.” His hair is flat, recently washed but far from its usual spikiness. Clearly he’s been up for sometime if he’s already showered, changed into casual gym shorts and a tank top, and acquired breakfast. 

“Hey, morning,” Stiles smiles. 

“Sleep alright?”

“Best night since we’ve been here!”

“Good. I grabbed us some food. I figure breakfast in bed?”

“Aw such a romantic. Who knew?” 

Derek steps away to put the tray of food down before returning to the bathroom behind Stiles at the sink, planting a good morning kiss on his cheek, hands joining across his torso as Stiles continues to investigate the marks on his neck. 

“You’re like a fucking vacuum. My dad is gonna murder me when he sees the state I’m in. Well, maybe you first, then me because he’s sure as hell gonna figure it out. But shit man, what the fuck? I can’t conceal some of these!”

Derek seems completely unphased, almost proud of the superficial damage he caused to Stiles’ skin. “Let’s weres know you’re mine,” he says with a toothy grin, his fingers stroking along Stiles’ midsection

“Oh is that what this is? Because I look like I got fucking mauled by a wild animal. Named Derek! Holding hands would be much easier on my supple skin!”

“But nowhere near as fun,” Derek playfully teases with his teeth grazing against Stiles’ skin. 

“Hey now. I definitely didn’t object to it,” Stiles answers back with a devilish smirk. “But a little more conspicuous would be greatly appreciated. Don’t need people gawking at staring at me more than they already do. I draw enough attention to myself on my own.”

Derek huffs disappointedly. “Fine. No more neck markings.”

Stiles turns around in Derek’s arms, planting an appreciative kiss on his lips. “Anywhere else that can be covered by clothing is fair game,” Stiles compromises. “Except when I want to wear my assless chaps.”

Derek balks at Stiles request. “Assless...chaps...”

“God, lighten up, sourwolf. It was a joke!” he playfully nudges Derek who in turn lifts him off the ground. “Put me down! I’m hungry.”

“Okay, fine,” he relents, feigning sadness. “Let’s eat.”

Stiles excitedly runs out to see the assortment of foods brought to the room. Three full plates: breakfast foods, pastries, and...fruit. Lots of pineapple. Stiles can’t help but pull a face. 

“What?” Derek glowers suspiciously at Stiles. “I thought you liked pineapple? You’ve been eating it all week.”

“I do...It’s just...” Stiles sighs awkwardly picking at the pineapple with his fingers. “This is going to sound so stupid.”

He sits comfortably on the edge of the bed, ready for story time. “Try me,” Derek folds his arms with a smirk. 

Stiles awkwardly shuffles on his heels chewing another piece of fruit. “You see...” he trails off scratching the back of his head. He sighs and gathers his thoughts. “The first day we were here, Peter told me pineapple makes you taste sweeter...”

“Makes you taste sweeter?” Derek is confused. 

“Your uh...come,” Stiles finally spits out. 

“O...oh...”

“Y...yeah. And he started it out by taunting me about how much you...enjoyed pineapple...” Stiles' face turns nearly as red as his back. 

“I’m gonna kill him...”

“I told you it was stupid...” Stiles flops down on the bed beside Derek. 

Derek lays back, settling in beside Stiles on the bed. “I mean... I’ve heard the same thing before...” Derek gives Stiles a provocative look. “Did you...try?”

Stiles eyes go wide, riddled with guilt. “Uh well you see...”

“Is this why you jerked off in the shower that first day?”

Stiles is, somehow, still red. “And another day...”

“And...?” Derek is pressing for more information, clearly intrigued by Stiles’ curiosity. 

He shrugs in response. “Uhh well...I wouldn’t exactly call it good but it wasn’t bad? I don’t know. I don’t exactly have a vast amount of experience in this field?” 

“So, Peter telling you I liked pineapple and that pineapple made your come taste sweeter got you to jerk off and taste your own come? Thinking of tasting my come?”

“God it sounds so fucking stupid when you say it like that,” Stiles groans as he drapes his arm over his eyes. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have eve- whoaaaa!”

Stiles cuts himself off as Derek had now rolled onto his lap, his gym shorts hiding absolutely nothing about the raging arousal growing within. 

“Holy shit, D,” he’s taken by surprise as Derek straddles his waist, quickly leaning down for a kiss.

Derek licks and kisses his neck below the ear, circling the love bites he left with his tongue, leaning into whisper, “If you wanted to taste me, you should have just asked,” Derek hums, frotting and grinding hard against Stiles beneath him. 

“Well fuck. Had I known that it would have made this week a whole lot less awkward. Do we have time for this? Checkout is soon.”

“We can make it a quick one.”

Stiles reaches down, grabbing the hem of Derek’s tank top, breaking their kiss as he pulls it off over Derek’s head. His nails dig lightly into Derek’s back as he nips at Stiles’ collar bone, meeting the guidelines at keeping his markings out of sight. 

Derek sits back on Stiles lap, running his fingers over the fresh love bites, his hands tickling lower down Stiles’ torso before they grip lightly around his waist. Derek’s hips move and sway on top of Stiles’ erection, the fabric straining for release. 

“Naked. Now. Both of us,” Stiles orders as they both strip off their remaining clothing, Derek re-situating himself back on his lap, much to Stiles’ surprise. Derek’s holding both of their cocks together in his hand as the thrusts back and forth, precome slick and quickening the pace. 

“Lube?” Derek asks as he continues to stroke them together. 

Stiles’ hands fumble towards the nightstand, grabbing the bottle set aside from the previous night. Derek holds his free hand out for Stiles, squeezing out a generous amount of lubricant, sliding his hand back between his legs.

“Wait, what’re you...” Stiles wasn’t expecting this. He wanted it but never expected it. 

“I’ll come faster this way,” Derek bites his lower lip as he slides a lubed finger up his own hole. His breaths are sharp and quick as he soon adds a second finger riding and rocking on top of Stiles, still jerking himself and Stiles together. 

Stiles hands rake across Derek’s torso, down to his thighs, caressing and rubbing gently, anticipating what’s to come. “Fuck, you look good like this,” Stiles offers as encouragement as Derek continues to quietly whine and moan.

He pours some lube onto his hand, swapping Derek’s hand for his own. Derek inhales sharply at Stiles’ slick fist pumps their cocks together, bracing his now free hand on Stiles’ chest. “I wanna ride you,” Derek breathlessly whimpers, tortured by Stiles eagerly working the foreskin of Derek’s cock around the sensitive head, taking the time to lube up his own erection. 

Derek shuffles forward past Stiles’ cock, positioning it between his cheeks, sliding it along the hole. “Ready?” 

“Mmhmm,” Stiles answers back, holding the base of his cock firm as Derek eases gradually down onto the head of Stiles’ dick. 

“Oh fuck,” Derek winces as he adjusts to Stiles opening him up. 

Stiles is speechless as he focuses on Derek’s face pointed upwards, eyes squeezing shut and softening as inch after inch of Stiles enters him before he bottoms out on the base. His head drops down, allowing him time to get comfortable with the full thickness of Stiles’ cock stretching his hole. 

“Good?” Stiles resumes rubbing Derek’s thighs, his cock fully erect and dripping precome onto Stiles’ abdomen. 

“So good,” he pants back, cheeks flushed and sweat forming on his temples. He slowly rises and sinks back down onto Stiles’ lap, a euphoric groan escaping past his lips. His moans become louder with every joyful bounce against Stiles. 

Stiles takes his lubed hand and resumes stroking Derek, both Derek’s hands now bracing on Stiles body, providing leverage for him to hit the perfect spot as he rides wild and focused. 

“Where do you want me to come?” Stiles asks. 

“I’m gonna ride you til your boneless then let you taste me.”

“I’m...” Stiles groans. “I’m getting close...” 

Derek doesn’t acknowledge Stiles as he picks up his pace, the sound of Derek’s legs slapping against Stiles’ waist increasing as he continues to bottom out on Stiles’ cock, edging them both closer to their orgasm. 

“De-Der. Slow dow- I’m gonna...”

“Come for me, Stiles.”

Stiles clings tightly to Derek’s thighs, nails sinking into his skin as Derek relentlessly rides through wave after wave of Stiles’ pulsing orgasm shooting inside him, Stiles panting and moaning with each burst. “Fuck...fuck...holy shit...” 

Derek pops off Stiles’ softening cock, shimmying forward to straddle his chest, quickly sliding his curled fist the full length of his erection, directly over Stiles’ face. “You ready?”

Stiles’ sticks his tongue out, lapping eagerly at the precome, lips curling back around the exposed head, tongue swirling around, waiting to taste Derek for the first time. He slides a lubed finger up Derek’s hole, much to Derek’s enjoyment as a string of curse words fly from Derek’s mouth. His entire body tightens, muscles and veins bulging as strings of his warm come paint across Stiles’ soft lips, tongue, and cheek. 

Derek gradually slows his rhythmic pace as the last drop of his fluid drips onto Stiles’ tongue. He curls his body over Stiles, dragging his tongue across Stiles’ come-covered cheek, sliding it into his partner’s hungry mouth. 

“Fuck that was hot... oh man... fuck...” Stiles rambles as his hands lazily slide over the curve of Derek’s butt. 

“How’d it taste?”

“Who cares! That was a-ma-zing.”

Derek chuckles and he nuzzles himself into the crook of Stiles’ neck. “Lots more we can try and do together,” he says. 

“So this is a thing now, right? I mean, us? We’re a thing and will continue to be a thing and do things together and to each other? Because I liked it. And you. A lot.”

“I liked it too,” Derek hums. He inhales and exhales deeply over Stiles’ body, laying listless and still as they come down from their high. 

“You know what else I like?” Stiles pokes Derek in the ribs. “Breakfast! And I can’t have any while you lay on top of me like...like...”

“Like what?” 

Derek stubbornly doesn’t move. 

“Like...I don’t know! I just got laid for the second time in twelve hours by an extremely hot werewolf so I’m clearly not thinking straight. Let me eat!” Stiles flails helplessly under the weight of Derek. 

“Fine fine,” Derek laughs rolling to the side. “We gotta eat, shower, pack, and go.”

“What if we showered together to save time?” Stiles suggests, already three bites into a now cold piece of toast. 

They did. 

It didn’t save any time.

~~~~~

Stiles arrives in the lobby, finding Scott, Allison, and Lydia huddled together, Peter resting on the arm of a chair behind them while Derek deals with checking out and settling the bill.

“Morni- holy shit, Stiles! What happened?” Lydia and Allison rush over to inspect the very visible bruising on Stiles’ neck. Scott starts to approach but stops in his tracks, scrunching up his nose and glaring back at Peter.

“I-“ Stiles starts before a growing laughter rises from Peter.

“I won!” he cackles from behind. 

“What? What do you mean?” Allison is confused. 

“Pay up, losers!”

Stiles watches confused as Scott immediately grabs twenty dollars from his wallet and places it reluctantly into Peter’s open hand. 

“Hold on just a damn second,” Lydia protests. “I’m not giving you anything until you explain.”

“The bruises and bites,” Scott points to Stiles exposed neck, Stiles fidgeting awkwardly as the pack look a little too close for his comfort. “Werewolf markings. Definitely Derek.”

“Hey now,” Stiles puts his bag down to cover his neck with his hand, not appreciative of all the unwarranted attention.

“I don’t believe you,” Lydia refuses to pay Peter. “Stiles, who did this to you?”

“Errr... well it was...”

“Hey!” Derek appears planting a kiss on Stiles’ cheek. “We’re good to go!”

Lydia slumps her shoulders, snatching a crisp $20 bill from her clutch and giving it to Peter. 

“Okay, who lost what bet now?” Stiles demands an answer.

“They all bet against me that you guys wouldn’t hook up by the end of the trip. Clearly I won. And so did the two of you,” Peter toasts his newly acquired $60 to the new couple. “Thanks for the sex.”

Stiles’ eyes go wide, his face turning bright red at Peter’s brazen statement. “Well...uh yes. You’re welcome?”

“Ignore him,” Derek rests a comforting hand on Stiles’ shoulder glaring at his uncle. 

“Wait. You all thought we would end up together?”

“You two were the only ones who didn’t see it,” Scott says. “Just happened a bit faster than we expected.”

“Uh, not all of us, Scott,” Peter raises his hand with a grin. “I knew what was up.”

“Ugh, shut up. You already got paid,” Allison pushes her money and Peter off the arm rest. “But we’re happy for you two!” Allison smiles. “I worry what your dad is going to say about your neck though,” she side eyes a sheepish Derek. 

“We already had this talk,” Stiles grimaces. “Less maulings are planned moving forward,” he gently pats a still embarrassed Derek on the cheek. 

“S-sorry...” Derek mutters.

“You never do that to me, thank god,” Allison sighs with relief. “And please don’t ever.”

“Yeah, your dad would kill me! I don’t know though. I’ve never had the urge to do...that,” he gestures to Stiles. “Maybe it’s a genetics thing.”

“Well, _I_ rather enjoyed it so more for me,” Stiles nudges his shoulder against a bashful Derek. 

“Barf,” Peter interjects. “I’m never visiting your loft again if you two are gonna be constantly sucking face,” pointing to his nephew. 

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he kisses Stiles on the lips. 

“Gross. Let’s go.”

~~~~~

“43E...43E...” Stiles slaps his ticket mindlessly in his hand, passing row after row after row after row...the back row. Again. And the middle seat no less.

“Oh for fuck’s sake...”

He grumpily shoves his pillow and carry-on bag into the overhead compartment, grateful neither of his seat mates have arrived yet, throwing himself hard into his prison for the next several hours. 

He scans down the aisle as Scott, Allison, and Lydia get grouped nearby the middle of the plane, Derek wandering past them, ticket in hand, scanning row after row before he stops beside Stiles. 

“I believe that’s my seat,” he gestures to the window seat beyond Stiles. 

“Well you had a seat right here earlier,” Stiles winks mischievously while pointing to himself, much to Derek’s amusement. 

“Cheeky,” Derek smirks as he makes sure to squeeze past Stiles still sitting in his seat, making him as uncomfortable as possible as inappropriate body parts are brushed upon while passing by.

“I have no plans to join the mile high club,” Stiles adjusts himself, highly visible to Derek. “At least not on this trip,” he whispers into Derek’s ear. 

Derek raises his brows with intrigue. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Stiles raises his brows back at him as Derek sticks out his tongue. “And you better put that to good use next time.”

“How about tonight? When we land back in Beacon Hills?”

“Yes. Your place.”

“Deal.”

“Can I interest you in any snacks while we complete the boarding process? Pretzels? Something else?” the airline steward asks Stiles. 

“Yeah, do you have any pineapple?”


End file.
